


See You on the Other Side

by Argonautic (Aonami)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (sort of?), Angst, Inter-Universal Time Travel, M/M, Major Spoilers, Post-Episode 11, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aonami/pseuds/Argonautic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The multiverse - an infinite amount of outcomes spanning across an infinite amount of universes. </p><p>When the integrity of the wormhole is compromised, Lance and Keith successfully prove the validity of this theory.  Now the only problem is getting back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I fell in love with this idea after watching episode 11 for the millionth time - I hope you enjoy my portrayal of it!
> 
>  
> 
> [EDIT: I Updated the summary because I realized how similar it was to another fic! Oops!]

      The ship lurches and rattles, the wormhole around them darkening into an eerie purple. Lance wonders why bad guys almost always prefer purple – would it hurt them to lighten up a little?

 

      “Coran, what’s happening?” Shiro’s voice crackles over the intercom. He is stern and unwavering, unwilling to crumble under pressure when they’ve just done the impossible. If they can attack Zarkon’s central command head on and leave mostly unscathed, they can survive this.

 

      Coran answers not a moment later, “The integrity of the wormhole has been compromised! It’s breaking down!” There is panic in his voice, and it’s probably justified, but there’s no way to be sure. It’s not like they’ve ever been in a situation like this before.

 

      “What does _that_ mean?” Lance asks, brow furrowing. He’s struggling to keep calm at this point. He can hear someone’s breath quickening over the intercom, and wonders, faintly who it is. The thought dissipates as Coran answers him.

 

      “It means we have no control over where we’re headed!”

 

      The ship’s rattling gets worse, so much so that Lance can barely keep his Lion still, much less anchored. He’s thrown out of the hangar, into the darkening vortex of purple and black. He tries to regain control, but the wormhole pushes and pulls his Lion with incredible force, sending him into a tailspin.

 

      He can hear the others shouting, can hear Coran yelling something and Allura yelling back, but everything is drowned out the moment he hits the wall of the wormhole.  His screens flash red, indicating some sort of system failure, and then the space around him turns into a darkness so oppressive that it engulfs all color, only leaving behind a gaping hole of nothingness. Then it’s gone half a second later, and the galaxy blinks back into existence.

 

      Lance groans, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the queasy feeling in his stomach away. Travelling through the wormholes Allura creates is _so_ much easier. He feels like he just ate a whole tray of space goo.

 

      Tentatively, he cracks one eye open, fearing the worst. He hopes that he at least ended up with another Paladin.

 

      Through the reddened tint of his screens, he spots some sort of space station a mile or so ahead of him. It looks inviting enough – at least, it’s glowing the same neon blue he’s long since associated with Allura. As long as it isn’t purple, or red – then it would _probably_ be occupied by bad guys.

 

      He turns his head to the left, and then to the right, and that’s when he spots Keith’s Red Lion. Relief runs through him at lightning speed, soothing his stomach a little, and bringing a small smile to his face. At least he isn’t alone.

 

      “Keith?” He calls. His speakers crackle, but he doesn’t receive an answer. Biting his lip, he checks what systems have been damaged. His screen blinks once, twice, before it shows that while everything is mostly in working order, a few of the communications devices have been ruined, and the outer shell’s resistance has been bumped down to 42%. He does a more thorough search, and confirms that his microphone is working fine, as well as his speakers, and the satellite. So Keith’s Lion has either been damaged to the point where it can’t receive any signals, or... Well, Lance prefers not to think about the other two alternatives. Regardless of his deductions, he tries to reach Keith again, “Keith? You there, man?” Nothing but radio silence greets him.

 

      Taking a deep breath, he thinks about what to do. If Keith was... conscious, surely he’d have tried to get Lance’s attention by now, right? Lance bites his lip. A knot curls in his abdomen, and the queasy feeling returns tenfold.

 

      Neon blue teases the corner of his eyes, so he looks back up. His eyes widen as he stares at the space station. The solution to all his problems stares him right back in the face. “Stupid, stupid!” He exclaims, fingers moving across his keyboard. He doesn’t know how to lock onto one station, but he knows how to broadcast a signal. As soon as the link is established, he says, “Hello. I know you don’t know me, but I think my friend is hurt, and I have no way of contacting him to make sure. I would really, _really_ appreciate your help.”

 

      He waits for an entire sixty seconds. The silence gnaws at him from the inside out, the knot in his stomach growing bigger and bigger and bigger, until–

 

      “Traveller,” A stern voice begins. Lance lets go of the breath he’d been holding, only to panic further as the person continues, saying, “Surrender peacefully, or you will be in direct violation of Article A783 of the Galactic Conduct. You have ten seconds, or we will be fully authorized to use force.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. I don't think this will be very long - maybe around 10-15k words - since it's mostly just a character study. I really wanted to write Lance, and Keith orz
> 
>  
> 
> Also: I was seriously so surprised at the love my one-shot got.... seriously, guys, thank you so much!  
> Also^2: In later chapters, expect the return of Space Dad......


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter! I read and re-read it a bunch of times, but please tell me if there are any errors! Thank you!

 

      For the record, ten seconds is not a lot of time to think about such a hard decision. Lance wants to fight, doesn’t want to _surrender_ , and _certainly_ doesn’t want to be responsible for losing both the Red and Blue Lions in one go, but... Keith may be _seriously_ injured, and he’d never be able to forgive himself if he let a teammate get captured. There’s no guarantee that he’d be able to escape, anyways – he doesn’t know what these aliens have up their sleeves. For all he knows, the station might be a military base, and he can’t fight against a whole fleet by himself.

 

      “Alright,” He says, voice stony. Six seconds have gone by so far, and they seemed to have disappeared within the blink of an eye. “What do you need me to do?”

 

      The intercom fills with static before he receives an answer. “We are going to bring you and your partner in with the tractor beam. Once you are both inside the hangar, we will give you further instructions.”

 

      A blue beam shoots out from somewhere on the station, surrounding both Keith and Lance’s Lions, rendering them immobile. Lance waits with bated breath as he nears the large spacecraft, clenching and unclenching his fists. He hopes that the others are doing better – hopes that they landed on a tropical planet, that they’re all together, that they’re searching for him and Keith... He hopes that Keith will be alright.

 

      The hangar’s gate is wide open. Lance spots a line of guards along the lip of the hangar, and a huge group behind them, distributed evenly. There’s a spot in the very middle of them where he supposes the Lions will be put. Sure enough, as soon as he’s inside, the tractor beam drops him and Keith off in that very same spot.

 

      “Leave your ship with your hands in plain sight, and your helmet off, as well as any other sort of communication device, tech, or weapon.” A voice says, different from the last. This person sounds particularly pissed off. He swallows nervously. “If you do not oblige, you will be in direct violation of Article A489 of the Galactic Conduct, and we will be fully authorized to use force.”

 

      “Alright, but first, what about my friend?” He asks, trying his hardest to keep an even tone. If only so that he can fool himself into thinking he has control over this situation.

 

      “They will be escorted by a medical team.” The person responds, curtly. “Now please leave your ship within the next twenty seconds. Failure to do so will be a–” Lance takes off his helmet before he hears the rest, annoyed at the constant recital of rules he’s never even heard of before.

 

      He leaves his helmet on his seat, and anything else that could be considered a weapon – including his Bayard, although it physically pains him to. He thinks that these people would notice if he keeps it on him, though. They don’t seem like the same brainless grunts you always see on TV.

 

      The mouth of his Lion opens upon his request. He pats the wall, trying to reassure the machine that he would come back for it no matter what. Then, he puts his hands up and moves down the walkway.

 

      The guards raise their weapons further, standing tall and stern. Their faces are concealed by helmets, as well the rest of their body, so Lance can’t tell if they’re Galran or not. They seem humanoid, though, and vary in height and stature, so they’re probably not mechanical.

 

      He steps onto the ground of the hangar. Nobody says or does anything. He can only assume they’re staring at him, which is unnerving – he doesn’t exactly want to be checked out by the aliens who are arresting him. He keeps quiet, despite the urge he has to make a sarcastic comment being overwhelming.

 

      Finally, a guard at the front of the group breaks the silence. Their armour is different from the others, and there’s a crest imprinted on the right side of their breastplate. The insignia catches Lances attention for a moment. It’s familiar – _very_ familiar, in fact, – the only problem is that he can’t remember where he’s seen it before.

 

      “What kind of sick joke is this?” The guard asks, anger coloring their voice. “Traveller, state your species.”

 

      Both questions confuse him. Hesitantly, he responds, “H-human?”

 

      In that moment, a guard rushes out from within the Red Lion. They go straight towards the guard who’d been talking to Lance, head bowed, probably whispering an important message regarding Keith. Lance strains to listen, but he can’t hear anything from where he’s standing.

 

      The guard returns to the Red Lion in a hurry, and the other one turns their head back towards Lance.

 

      “Are you equipped with any facial encryption devices? When you were expressly asked to remove all tech before you left your ship?”

 

      “I–” Bewildered, Lance looks on hopelessly at the guard. “I don’t even know what that _is_!” He exclaims. The other guards tense, their grip on their weapons tightening, so he quickly calms his tone and says, “I took everything off, I _swear_.”

 

      The guard at the front doesn’t shift their gaze elsewhere. “Jae,” They say. “Scan the traveller.”

 

      Someone from the crowd steps forward, flipping a switch on their gun as they do so. They point the barrel straight at him, and panic seizes him. His heart beats relentlessly against his chest and he thinks, _‘This is it.’_ He squeezes his eyes shut, and prays that his friends are all safe and sound, that they find Keith and save him. _‘I’m sorry mom and dad, for all the times I’ve hurt your feelings. I love you.’_

 

      When nothing happens, he slowly opens his eyes. There’s a beam of light encasing his body, and a screen has popped up on the guard’s gun. The screen displays a 3D image of his body, spinning slowly in place. After a few seconds, it blinks green, and the guard flips the switch off. “Nothing, Captain.” They say, facing the one who looks to be in charge.

 

      Another pause follows Jae’s affirmation. Lance is starting to get real sick of these silences. Sooner or later, he won’t be able to contain his stupid remarks, and–

 

      “Where’s Keith?” He asks, looking over at the Red Lion. So far, nobody had gone in or out of Keith’s ship after that last guard. “You said he’d be–”

 

      “Quiet, traveller,” The Captain snaps. Then, they raise their voice, authority rolling off them in waves as they say, “I want maximum security on both of them. Cordon off a section of the medbay, and keep it all _confidential_. I don’t want word of this leaking until we have absolutes.” The guards all nod. “I will oversee the transfer of this one.” The Captain gestures to Lance with a wave of their gun. “Jae, you and your team, plus the medical team, go with the other one. _Nobody_ breathes a word of this, or you will be suspended immediately – and I _will_ find out. So if you do decide to be stupid, tell me afterwards and get it over with.”

 

      He knew this was coming, yet it’s still difficult to willingly let somebody put handcuffs on you – if they can even be considered handcuffs. There’s a band of energy securing his wrists together, and then a thin layer of blue surrounding both of his hands, somehow freezing them. He tries not to freak out too much.

 

      A whole team of guards escort him to his cell. The Captain walks behind him, and he can feel a piercing gaze on his back the whole way.

 

      They go through a bunch of doors that have to be opened manually, some even by multiple codes, so Lance is understandably exhausted and annoyed when they finally reach the holding cells. He’s led down a long, winding corridor, until the guards in front of him stop. He stumbles, nearly bumping into them.

 

      As soon as he’s fully inside the dingy little cell, they close the door and lock it. They don’t even take off his handcuffs! From the other side, he can still see the Captain. It’s hard not to glare.

 

      “I want a blood analysis as soon as possible,” He hears as he presses his ear against the door. “A full examination, too – see if everything’s alright. I want to be notified as soon as the results are in.”

 

      “Yes, Captain.”

 

      Lance can feel his heart thumping against his ribcage, and panic – real, _blinding_ panic – starts to set in for a second time. Why would they need to analyze his blood? What results could possibly be of any use to them? Nobody in the Universe knows who he is, besides a select few. Among those few, however, is Zarkon... Lance shakes his head, face pinching. He is almost certain Zarkon isn’t behind this, or any of his grunts.

 

      If these aliens _were_ Zarkon’s minions, they wouldn’t have bothered with the diplomacy – they’d have probably just taken his Lion, knocked him out and then used him as bait. They wouldn’t ask him what species he is, or even care about _‘facial encryption devices’_.

 

      So who _are_ these aliens, if not part of the Galran Empire? What do they _want_? Lance sits down heavily on the rickety bed, attempting to piece together a puzzle with too many missing parts.

 

      Frustration simmers in his stomach. He doesn’t have enough knowledge of the Universe to even come _close_ to figuring out where he is, or who’s captured him. _‘Whatever happens to me, I just hope that they at least find Keith,’_ Lance thinks, leaning back against the wall.

 

      A few minutes pass before they open the door again. Lance’s head snaps up immediately, and he watches closely as two aliens enter his cell – one guard, and a person he can only assume to be a medic.

 

      The medic is wearing plain, mint green scrubs that have an insignia on the right breast. This badge is different from the one the Captain wore – it looks like some sort of flower. The medic is another humanoid, with light pink skin and five white, pupil-less eyes. Her hair, dark brown in color, is cut shoulder-length and curly, reminding Lance, faintly, of Allura. The medic looks soft and friendly, and smiles when she looks at him. He doesn’t return the favour.

 

      “Hello,” She says, moving closer. “I’m Mitis, but you can call me Mimi, if you want.” She has a small kit in her grasp, which she opens carefully. She rummages through it for a moment, and then takes out a needle and a small vial. Lance’s eyes widen at the sight. “Don’t be frightened – I only need a very small amount.” The medic looks him directly in the eyes. His body relaxes, the tension leaving him, replaced by a soothing feeling. “Just look at me, alright?” He nods, and Mitis’s smile widens. “Great. I promise it’ll be over soon, so just keep looking at me and it’ll all be ok.” He feels the needle break through his skin, but, strangely, he doesn’t even wince. “It’s almost over, don’t worry, you’re fine. The vial’s nearly full – it’s ok.” Mitis continues to speak calmly throughout the procedure, until the needle is out and she’s leaning back, still smiling. “There you go.”

 

      Lance blinks once, as the soothing feeling drains from him. He stares at Mitis’s innocent face, brow furrowing in confusion. “What the hell?” He murmurs, itching to rub the skin of his arm. Energy crackles around his wrists, and he glares at the handcuffs.

 

      “Do you want a bandage?” Mitis asks. The only answer she receives is a curt _‘No’_. “Ok, then. Before I leave, I’ve been asked to do a small physical examination, as well. It’s all very simple – don’t worry.”

 

      He makes the mistake of looking into her eyes again. The feeling from before washes over him, and he follows all her instructions carefully – opens his mouth, says ‘aah’, breathes in, breathes out, stands up, answers question upon question about things like _‘Do you feel any pain?’_ , and _‘Have you had any headaches, or felt any pressure in your head?’_ , until she nods, satisfied.

 

      “Congratulations! You’re the picture of perfect health!” She says as she packs away her bag. Lance frowns, glancing towards the guard in the corner. That guy had been giving him the creeps the whole time. “It was a pleasure to meet you – I hope your blood comes back with positive results!” She moves towards the door, and the guard lets her through first, before they trail after her and lock the door behind them.

 

      Lance rubs at his forehead with his forearm, eyes drawn shut. He’s tired – exhausted, actually – but he has to stay awake and alert in case something happens. Namely, in case he figures out a way to escape, or a window of opportunity opens up. If Shiro could escape the Galra, then Lance can find a way out of this.

 

      Minutes shift to hours, dragging on and on and _on_ , all the while he barely manages to keep his eyes wide open. He’s thirsty and hungry – hasn’t eaten in what seems like days – so he tries to concentrate on that instead of sleep. It works... sort of. He dozes off a few times, and snaps awake with a racing heart and quickened breaths. He doesn’t even want to _know_ what these levels of stress are doing to him. _‘Picture of perfect health’_? Yeah, right. When he gets out of this hellhole, his hair will be whiter than Allura’s.

 

      That train of thought only entertains him for a few minutes. He imagines himself escaping with a cane and a long, snow white beard – maybe a pair of wire-framed glasses, too, like his grandma has. Keith would still be a step behind him, even if he were an old man.

 

      The smile slips from his face as he remembers his- what, friend? _Are_ they friends? Does _Keith_ consider them to be friends? Lance supposes that it wouldn’t be the worst fate in the world, now that he’s sitting in a moldy jail cell. Sure, Keith is annoyingly talented (not that Lance would ever admit that out loud), and he always had all the girls back at the Garrison, and he forgot about Lance, and he- _ok_. There are a lot of things about Keith that piss Lance off, but they’re _teammates_ , and something akin to friendship has been building between them ever since they found the Blue Lion – he can’t really ignore that. Not now, at least, when he has nobody, and nothing, to distract him from his own thoughts.

 

 _‘He’ll be ok,’_ Lance tells himself. Keith is strong and no _purple wormhole_ is going to take him down... at least, Lance hopes not. No – Lance _knows_ that that won’t happen. Keith _will_ be okay, because he has to be. He _has_ to be.

 

      The door opens, startling him. He gets up hastily, shoulders tensing, face souring into a frown.

 

      “Come with us, please,” A guard says, holding a hand out. Lance moves towards them at a slow pace, testing their patience, but none of the guards comment. As he steps out of the room, they deactivate part of the handcuffs. He stretches his fingers almost immediately, and notices that the band around his wrist doesn’t chafe as much as before.

 

 _‘_ _Strange,’_ He thinks as they walk down the hall. _‘Very, very strange.’_

 

      It takes about five minutes to get to their destination. The room is large and sparsely furnished – a bed, a desk with a lamp, and a few chairs. There’s a window, too. Lance looks back at the guards, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why the sudden hospitality?” He asks, unable to contain himself.

 

      One of the guards steps forward, and Lance tenses. They grab hold of his wrist, not harshly, yet still stern, and after a few quick motions he doesn’t quite catch, the handcuffs pop off with a soft hiss. The guard turns back around and leaves the room.

 

      “Tomorrow the Captain will speak with you and your partner,” The other one tells him, voice soft, before they leave, too.

 

      Lance stares at the door, rubbing the thick, angry red lines around his wrists. He has a million questions, and the pile just keeps growing. At least he knows Keith isn’t...  At least he knows Keith is well enough to talk. That’s something positive out of this whole ordeal.

 

      He moves towards the window. There’s a low hum of energy coming from it, sparking his attention. There are no bars, he notices, so there must be some sort of force field, or something that would keep him from opening it on his own free will. He steps back, deciding it wouldn’t be the best idea to push his luck and touch the window. He’s never been exactly interested in finding out what electrocution feels like.

 

      The bed looks comfortable enough. Lance pokes at the mattress. Surprisingly, it isn’t rock hard – it’s actually pretty spongy.

 

      Exhaustion weighs him down onto the bed, forcing his eyes to shut. He’s so, unbelievably, _incredibly_ tired that it’s a wonder he even made it to this room on his own two feet. He can’t fight it anymore. The moment his eyes close, he’s out like a light, slipping into deep, blissful sleep.

 

* * *

 

      There is a blinding pain in Keith’s left temple. His ears are ringing. His mouth tastes like sand. His eyes, when he tries to open them, register only nameless shapes and swirls of colour. When he tries to move, he can’t do more than lift his head up. Both his arms and his legs have been tied down, restrained by something that feels like pure energy.

 

      Mind numb with pain, he struggles against the restraints. They don’t budge, but that doesn’t deter him. He can’t think straight, and this seems like the only possible option. He can’t just lie there and wait to be killed.

 

      Shoes clack against the floor, and voices filter in through the ringing of his ears. Keith growls lowly, thrashing, trying to get free, get out, _get out_ , **_get out_**. The voices are louder now, sounding much less calm, and then there are hands on his forearms and calves. He thrashes harder, shouting words that have no meaning to his fevered brain.

 

      The struggle continues for another minute, until the hands are gone and the voices have quieted. Then, there is a cool palm on his forehead, and a blurry face in front of him. He attempts the shake the hand off, but the fire within him burns out as he hears, “Calm down, now.” The urge to fight back is swallowed up by a soothing warmth, and he lies his head back down on the pillow. “You’re alright. You’re safe. Just go back to sleep, Red Paladin. Everything will be clear in the morning.”

 

      His eyelids feel heavier than they did a moment before. He thinks nothing more as he drifts back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, feel free to point out any errors! I really hope you're enjoying my fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I promise that the pace will pick up a bit more, and that there'll be more Keith&Lance interaction :)
> 
>  
> 
> Previews for next chapter: More Keith, and he and Lance find out, more or less, what the hell happened to them when they went through the wormhole.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy! :)
> 
> P.S.: Thank you all so, so much for the positive feedback I've gotten so far! I love each and every one of you who took the time to read, comment, and/or give this fic kudos!

 

      Lance dreams of dark, looming shadows tinted an ugly, bruising purple. He hears the screams of his friends, but lies paralysed and unable to do anything other than listen, and wait. He wants to call out, wants to tell them where he is, ask them what’s wrong, but his tongue is like lead in his mouth.

 

      He wakes up panting, with sweat cooling on his brow. Disoriented from his nightmare, he panics as he realizes he isn’t in his room, or anywhere familiar. The world spins when he sits up, making him dizzier than before, and he rubs at his eyes. It’s only then that he notices the ugly red marks marring his wrists. He fingers the injuries, frowning.

 

      As he adjusts to the waking world, his memories of the previous day come back to him – the battle at Zarkon’s central command, the wormhole, being arrested. Groaning, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his chin on the palm of his hand. He doesn’t feel rested at all. He just feels tired, annoyed, and hungry. When was the last time he ate? His brow furrows.

 

      It occurs to him, then, that he has no idea how long he slept for. A glance at the window reveals nothing except for the endless, inky black of space. There aren’t any clocks in the room, either. He huffs an annoyed sigh, and for once he hopes the guards will come and bother him. Isn’t he supposed to talk to the Captain, anyways?

 

      There’s nothing to do except wait. Lance really, _really_ hates waiting. He’s always been more of an action-oriented sort of guy, and never one for the whole introspection thing. They could have at least given him a pen and some paper. _At least_.

 

      His stomach grumbles quite loudly, sounding strange in the midst of such a quiet environment. _‘Don’t they feed their prisoners around here?’_ He thinks, wincing. Sooner or later, he’ll have to ask for some food. They don’t want him to starve – or do they? Maybe that’s their diabolical plan: death by starvation. Lance huffs a self-depreciating laugh, and lies back down on the bed, rubbing a hand over his belly. He feels like he can eat his way through an entire kitchen.

 

      A long time goes by before the door opens. Lance had been drifting in and out of sleep, thoughts of food swirling around in his head, so he’s startled awake at the sound. Nevertheless, he’s up and alert before the guards even step inside the room.

 

      Like last time, they secure the band around his wrists, and leave it loose enough so that there isn’t any real discomfort, which he appreciates. Then, they lead him out of the room and through corridor after corridor.

 

      “Your partner has made a full recovery,” One of them says along the way. Lance is pretty sure that they’re the same guard from yesterday, though he can’t be sure, what with the full body armour. “He is very eager to see you, I’m sure.”

 

      Lance is quiet as he considers what they’ve said. “So he’s...” He can’t quite bring himself to finish his sentence. Luckily, though, the guard seems to pick up on what he was going to say.

 

      “He’s fine, I assure you,” They say, gentle and kind. “The medics had quite the struggle, trying to calm him down. He was... understandably upset, and disoriented. Dehydrated, too. Whatever happened to you both, it seemed to have had a worse effect on him. He’s much better now, though.”

 

      Keith being anything other than alert and brooding is a strange concept to Lance, and one that doesn’t sit too well with him. He doesn’t want to imagine how Keith must have felt, waking up with no recollection of how he got there, dizzy and sick and without anyone to explain to him what was going on. Hell, even Lance doesn’t know what happened, and he’s been awake nearly the whole time.

 

      Shifting his attention elsewhere, he realizes that this would be the opportunity to ask where he is and where they’re taking him, but the guards stop before he gets the chance.

 

      The door in front of them opens automatically, revealing a large, circular room filled with control panels and keyboards and huge holographic screens. It reminds Lance of the control room back at the castle. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost picture Allura and Coran standing there, smiling at him.

 

      All stray thoughts disappear as his eyes land on the figure in the middle of the room. It’s the Captain, only this time, they don’t have their mask on. Short, auburn hair frames a stern face, and they stand with their back straight, analyzing Lance’s every move through yellow eyes dotted with black.

 

      “You may take a seat,” The Captain says, once the guards have uncuffed Lance and left the room. Lance feels as though he has no choice, so he sits down on one of the hard metal chairs without a word, rubbing at the sores around his wrists. There is a stretch of uncomfortable silence as the Captain stares at him, their expression unwavering in its solemnity. Then, they take a short, shallow breath. “What is your name?”

 

      Lance stares right back at them, brow furrowing. “Lance.” He answers, slowly, trying to figure out what their angle is.

 

      The Captain looks at him some more, their gaze betraying no emotion. Lance feels his skin prickle with goosebumps. “So,” The Captain begins. Their voice is ever so quiet, so much so that Lance has to strain in order to hear the rest of what they say, “You say you are him, you look like him, and your blood confirms it all. You _are_ Lance Castillo, the Blue Paladin.”

 

      Confusion pinches a wrinkle into Lance’s brow. He takes a step forward despite his suspicion, asking, “I- how do you know my surname?” More questions surface, on top of the ever-growing mountain, and he knows can’t stave off the urge to speak for much longer. Not when he feels like he’s boiling over with curiosity and the urgency to know where the hell he is, as well as who the hell all these aliens are.

 

      The more he thinks, the harder it is to keep quiet. It only takes another second, and although he tries, he really, _really_ can’t quite catch his tongue as he continues to talk, “What do you mean my blood ‘ _confirms it all’_? Where’s Keith? Isn’t he supposed to be here, too?” His teeth clack audibly as he snaps his mouth shut, and he breathes slowly through his nose. _‘Stupid,’_ He thinks, looking wearily at the Captain. They stare back at him through their eerie yellow gaze, face neutral.

 

      “Yes, he should be here any moment,” They say, sounding kinder than Lance had expected. “It would be better to speak to you both at the same time, at any rate. I can see that there were some... complications, regarding your arrival.”

 

* * *

 

      When he wakes up, Keith is convinced that he’s still sleeping.

 

      His head hurts far too much, and the lights overhead do little to aid that fact. He closes his eyes, wincing, and breathes harshly through his nose. Somewhere to his right, there is a soft beeping noise. The rhythm matches his heartbeat, oddly enough.

 

      After a moments, he attempts to open his eyes for a second time. The lights still bother him, but he can ignore them for now.

 

      A quick look around confirms his suspicions. He’s been taken to what looks like some sort of hospital, or at least a medical clinic. _‘What the hell happened?’_ He thinks, sitting up on the soft bed. He remembers rescuing Allura, and going through the wormhole, and then... and then–

 

      “Oh, you’re awake again. Wonderful! The Captain has just asked for you.”A voice says, off to his left. When he turns his head, the alien who spoke smiles kindly at him. “My name is Mitis, but you can call me Mimi.” She moves around the room, checking all the machines, until she comes to a stop at the right side of the bed. “Are you feeling all right?” She questions, peering at either side of his head, and then the rest of his body. Keith shifts uncomfortably. “Do you feel any pain?”

 

      His head is still swimming, but the ache from before has dulled down to a hollow throb at the base of his left temple. He blinks a few times in an attempt to ward away the fuzzy edges around his vision.

 

      “I... Where am I?” He asks, trying to keep a lucid train of thought. His voice is raspy, and his tongue is like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. He licks his lips, frowning. _‘And what does she mean by ‘again’?’_

 

      “All of your questions will be answered in just a short while, ok? Just relax and tell me if you feel any discomforts.” Keith feels warm and safe, all of a sudden, forgetting all about his previous worries. He allows Mitis to run a few tests on him, like checking his temperature, and his heartbeat, among other things. Then, he answers a few questions, and drinks two cups of what he assumes to be water upon her request, before she nods, seemingly satisfied. “Looks like you’re ready to go see the boss, then. I’ll take you personally, if you promise to behave.” Her pupil-less eyes crinkle around the edges as she smiles.

 

      Keith gets up from the bed, blinking as the soothing feel from before dissipates. When his bare feet touch the cool, metal floor, his brow furrows. “Can I have some shoes, or something?” He asks. Mitis nods and moves towards a cupboard, rummaging around for a few moments before she returns with his clothes, boots included.

 

      “You can change in there.” She says, pointing to a door to his right. Keith mumbles a _‘Thanks’_ as he enters the small bathroom.

 

      His mind works tirelessly as he gets dressed, going through every moment following Allura’s rescue. He can remember the wormhole turning purple, and what Coran had said about its ‘integrity’ being ‘corrupted’. He can remember being thrown out of the castle’s hangar, hitting the wormhole’s wall, but after that it all turns fuzzy and frayed.

 

      Although Mitis hadn’t said anything about his condition, she had focused heavily on the wellbeing of his head, so he must have suffered a concussion, or some other sort of head trauma. She also hadn’t revealed anything about their whereabouts, only that one of the other Paladins is here as well – he suspects Lance, from Mitis’s description. He’d have to talk to this _‘Captain’_ , and hope that these aliens are friendly enough, and willing to help him find his teammates. If not... things are bound to get messy.

 

      After Keith leaves the bathroom, Mitis leads him out of the room and to the Captain, smiling and talking the whole way. She talks a little about his health, and how he had woken up the day before, disoriented and dehydrated. He questions her about what sort of injuries he’d suffered, but she doesn’t give him any straight answers. She merely reassures him that he’s back to being _‘A healthy teenage boy!’_

 

      By the time they reach the Captain, Keith has gone silent.

 

* * *

 

      The sound of a door opening fills the air. Lance turns his head immediately, and spots Keith walking alongside the medic, Mitis.

 

      Keith looks... healthy, albeit just the slightest touch annoyed. Lance breathes a sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, and smiles. “Keith,” He says. When his teammate turns to look at him, he gets up from his seat and takes a step forward. “Am I ever glad to see you.”

 

      The worst thing about this situation is that he’s not even being ironic. What he said is completely true – he can’t deny how relieved he feels, now that he isn’t alone anymore. Pink flares in his cheeks as Keith’s face turns a little confused, and he coughs a bit, scratching the back of his neck. “Awake, that is,” He corrects. “And- yeah. Y’know.”

 

      After a glance towards Mitis, who smiles happily at him, Keith moves towards Lance. “What the hell happened to us?” He asks, keeping his voice a low murmur. His gaze shifts to the Captain and then back to Lance. It seems that the awkward exchange from before has been forgotten, which is good. “Where _are_ we?”

 

      There’s no chance for Lance to formulate an answer – the Captain speaks as soon as Keith has asked his final question. “Mitis, you may leave us now.” The medic nods, shoots the two teens a final grin, and then walks out of the room. Lance moves further away as the Captain peers at him and Keith through piercing eyes.

 

      “First and foremost,” The Captain begins. “I would like to apologize for your initial treatment. Yours especially, Blue Paladin.” They incline their head towards Lance, and remorse etches itself into the lines around their mouth, tugging it into a small frown. Lance is surprised at the show of emotion, but even more so at the way Keith looks at him, eyes hard, lips downturned. He snaps back to attention as the Captain resumes their speech, “I won’t say it was uncalled for due to reasons I will keep to myself for the time being. In order to present these reasons, I need to make sure that my suspicions are correct. So, I ask only that you answer my questions, and then I promise that I will answer all of yours.” They pause for a moment, before adding, “You may call me Augur.”

 

      Lance looks to Keith, and sees that the other boy is still looking at him.

 

      “What happened to you?” Keith inquires, inspecting Lance with a quick glance from head to toe. His brow furrows slightly when he notices the red marks around Lance’s wrists, but otherwise his face remains passive. Lance resists the urge to roll his eyes – of course Keith would be as cool as a cucumber, even after being thrown into a defective wormhole and getting arrested by aliens.

 

      There are more important things to worry about, though. Like if they should trust Augur, and the rest of the crew aboard the station. So Lance only shakes his head at Keith, and whispers, “What do you think we should tell this guy?”

 

      Keith stares at him for a few more seconds before giving up on finding out the source of Lance’s injuries. Behind them, Augur keeps quiet and patient, face as neutral as ever.

 

      While he thinks, Keith worries his bottom lip between his teeth and crosses his arms. “We don’t have any weapons, we don’t know where our Lions are, and we have no idea where we are,” He says quietly, glancing at Augur every few seconds. “If they wanted to kill us, they’ve already had plenty of good opportunities. The same with stealing our Lions. Unless they have some evil masterminded plan, I can’t think of any other motives they might have. If they do, we don’t really have any choice other than to play along, anyways. We’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

 

      Lance doesn’t like this plan, doesn’t like Augur, and doesn’t like the lack of control he has over this whole situation. However, he knows that Keith is right – they really don’t have any other choice. They haven’t had any choice the moment he agreed to being arrested. Guilt unfurls in his gut, souring his mood, but he wills it away and nods once. With that, they face Augur together.

 

      “Alright,” Keith acquiesces. “What do you need to know?”

 

      Augur looks just a tiny bit thankful, maybe even relieved. “I appreciate you both placing your trust in me, however hesitant it may be,” They say. “First, then: How did you two find this station?”

 

      “Well...” Lance begins, unsure as to how much information he and Keith should give away. “We were travelling through this wormhole when something happened – something bad – and then we were flung here.” He takes a quick look at Keith. He’s met with a tiny, nearly imperceptible frown, and he realizes that he has no idea how much Keith remembers about the incident. Turning his attention back to Augur, he continues to say, “Normally we have control over where we end up when we go through wormholes. This time... well, you can put two and two together.”

 

      Augur nods, their face etched with a grave, serious look. “Indeed...” They murmur as they cross their arms. There is silence as Augur thinks, and then, “And what happened before you went through this wormhole? I need you to be as specific as possible, please.”

 

      “We had just rescued our friend, and we were escaping her captors.” Keith answers swiftly, wasting no time at all. Lance isn’t sure if being vague is the best way to go anymore, but Keith’s words are already out in the open. All they can do is wait for Augur’s response.

 

      The silence doesn’t stretch for that long. “I apologize if I’m being too intrusive.” Augur doesn’t _look_ particularly apologetic, although their voice tells a different story. “I really must know who you were rescuing, and why – it is imperative if I am to piece together what happened to you both.”

 

      The air turns thick with suspense. Keith is a quiet presence beside Lance, face stony as he weighs their options. Cooperating is always the safest route, but then again... If they reveal that Allura is still alive, these aliens might go after her and Coran. Who knows, they might even target the other Paladins as well. They already know who Lance is, although Keith isn’t aware of that fact yet, so who’s to say they don’t know the identities of the rest of the team?

 

      “What do you know about what happened?” Keith inquires. “You know _something_ , so don’t lie to me.”

 

      A sigh escapes Augur’s mouth. “I have a theory,” They reveal, tone heavy with reluctance. “Unless I know the answers to my questions, however, I am afraid that it will _remain_ a theory. I know you cannot trust me, but please try to, if only for a short while. My words seem hollow, as do my promises, and I realize this – you must understand, though, that if my theory is correct...” They purse their lips. “It would be a most- _difficult_ situation. I’ve already contacted a friend of mine, and I’m sure that they will help in confirming my suspicions, as well as yours, but they’re running a little late. For now, you _must_ trust me. _Please_.”

 

      It would be a _huge_ gamble if they choose to believe Augur. A huge, unbelievably _stupid_ gamble. A very, very, _very_ stupid gamble. _Very stupid_.

 

      Lance has never been one for making great decisions under pressure. He trusts his gut too much – something that his teachers back at the Garrison had criticised just about a hundred times, – and there have been certain instances wherein he confused his ego for his intuition.

 

      This time, though... this time he can _feel_ that Augur is telling the truth (at least, he hopes so). So he doesn’t think twice as he responds, “We were rescuing Princess Allura from Zarkon’s central command.”

 

      “What the _hell_ , Lance?” Keith whispers in a hiss, eyes going wide.

 

      “Trust me,” Lance murmurs back, tacking on a _‘Please’_ afterwards. Keith huffs an exasperated breath, but nods, nonetheless, a moment later. Lance’s mouth twitches into a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

 

      Meanwhile, Augur looks at them both with a guarded expression. “I see...” They mumble. A long, _long_ sigh escapes them a few seconds afterwards. “I fear this situation is too delicate to be dealt with alone. We must wait for my ally – they will be able to explain better.”

 

      “What?!” Keith exclaims, balling his hands into fists. “You can’t _do_ that – you promised us answers, so answer us!”

 

      “I know,” Augur says, very calmly. “But if I speak my suspicions aloud, I am certain that neither of you will believe me. Furthermore, my knowledge cannot even compare to that of my friend’s, so it would be better if they explain, and not me.”

 

      “What makes you think that we’ll trust them more than we trust you?” Lance asks, voice hard. He isn’t so sure that he made the right decision, anymore. He can only hope that he hasn’t put anybody in danger. If he has... The guilt from before returns, and it’s a heavy weight against his shoulders, pressing down on him more and more with each passing moment.

 

      “You are–”

 

      The sound of the door opening silences Augur. Some guard walks in, going straight for the Captain, and whispers a message to them. After dismissing the guard, Augur turns back to Keith and Lance.

 

      “You will meet my ally now,” They say. Relief colours their words. “I ask that you try to keep an open mind. I am sorry that you cannot trust me.”

 

      The two teenagers keep quiet. Lance looks at Keith in search of anger, or irritation, over the situation he’s just put them both in. When Keith turns to him, he sees the anger he’d been expecting, but it fades, after a moment, to make way for a reassuring smile. The anxious feeling wound tight around his chest lessens, and he smiles back. They’re both in this mess together, and it’ll only be by working together that they’ll get out of it.

 

      Not even a minute later, the door opens once again. The two Paladins look back, and shock overtakes the both of them as they see who’s on the other side. Lance would recognize that bushy moustache _anywhere_.

 

      “Well,” Coran breathes as he steps into the room. “Looks like you boys have landed yourselves in quite the situation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I must have re-written this chapter about four or five times, and I have to say that I'm still not satisfied with most parts. So if you have any questions, or any constructive criticism, I would really love to hear it!
> 
> Previews for next chapter: The answer to "Wtf is happening" is FINALLY answered, and Lance maybe eats something.
> 
> I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, regardless of how I feel about it. Thank you, once again, for taking the time to read, comment, and/or give kudos. It means so much to me! :)
> 
> Also: If you see any errors, feel free to point them out!! Even though I've read through this chapter a million times, I still could've missed something.....  
> Also^2: .... if you want to talk to me about Mitis, or Augur, go ahead.... They've both served their purpose for this fic, but they might make a reappearance if you wish.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update! I've had the chapter ready for some time, but I haven't had the time to post it.
> 
> Like always, I hope you enjoy!! :)
> 
> And a big thank you, once again, to all of you who take the time to read this! I'm grateful to all of you!! :)

 

      “Coran?!” Lance shouts. His mouth stays fixed in the shape of an ‘o’, and his eyes have widened astronomically. From the corner of his eyes, he can tell that Keith has been stunned into silence. Then, relief washes over him like a warm tide.

 

      Of _course!_ Coran must have contacted this station for help. That explains why Augur knows who he and Keith are, as well as his name, and why they needed to verify both of their identities.  “Where’s Allura?” Lance asks, looking beyond Coran, as if the Princess would appear any moment.  More questions pop up, one after the other, and he can’t stop himself from talking when he’s this excited, “Is she OK? What about the others? Have you found them? How do you know this guy? Where did you guys end up? Whe–” he pauses at the feeling of a hand on his wrist, turning to look at the source. Keith says nothing, only shakes his head once and nods towards Coran. Thoroughly confused, Lance follows his gaze.

 

      It only takes a second to notice the gray along Coran’s temples, and the lines around his eyes and mouth. _‘Wrinkles,’_ Lance’s mind supplies for him as he continues to stare, wondering just how he was able to miss something so obvious. _‘I need to sleep for ten years,_ ’ he concludes. _‘And comfort food. Lots and_ lots _of comfort food.’_ His stomach grumbles pitifully.

 

      “Ok,” he says, after a moment, once it all sinks in. His voice sounds weak and lost even to his own ears, so he swallows before continuing, “I think I’m ready for that explanation right about now.”

 

      “Yes,” Coran agrees, smiling with a fond glimmer in his eyes. “You’re both in sore need of some answers.”

 

      Keith looks like he wants to say something, but decides not to at the last minute. He remains quiet beside Lance, looking at their friend with a mixture of apprehension and residual shock.

 

      “Come and sit,” Augur calls to Coran, breaking the silence, and gestures to a chair beside them. “Blue and Red Paladins, please sit as well.” They all follow the Captain’s request, with Keith and Lance sitting across from Coran and Augur.

 

      “So,” Coran begins. “I’m guessing you went through a wormhole?” Lance nods. Coran hums a little, stroking his moustache. “Would one of you mind telling me exactly what happened?”

 

      Eventually, Keith speaks, “We aren’t sure.” His gaze is calculating and calm, deciding with the utmost care on what to say next. “We had just escaped from Zarkon, and for some reason the wormhole just... I don’t know – _something_ happened to it and suddenly Allura couldn’t control it anymore. Then we ended up here. I don’t know about the others.”

 

      Augur turns and whispers something to Coran, who continues to groom his moustache.  Once Augur leans back, Coran’s eyes have taken on a more serious look. “And when did this happen? How long have you been Paladins?”

 

      “It’s been few weeks since we got our Lions.”

 

_‘Why does this even matter?’_ Lance feels like asking. As surprised as he still may be, he can understand that the wormhole was somehow turned into a pseudo-time machine, flinging them smack dab into the future. _‘I can’t believe this is happening. What the fuck.’_

 

      “Well, then,” Coran says, breathing deeply. “You both really do know how to find trouble, don’t you? This is even more difficult than I had imagined.” He runs a hand over his face, composing himself. “Judging by your ages, and mine, I think it’s safe to assume that the wormhole must have acted as a temporal accelerator, which I’m sure you both have concluded already. However, I’m afraid the worst doesn’t end there.” He pauses only for a second, but in that single moment Lance spots the sorrow in his gaze before it fades. “When you went through that wormhole, some outside source must have meddled with it, taking away Allura’s control. I would have thought that that would only mean she wouldn’t be able to decide on where you all wound up, but it seems the problem ran much, _much_ deeper than that. Somehow... Somehow, on top of accelerating time itself, an inter-universal pathway opened up, and you two just happened to go through it.”

 

      Another wave of shock overtakes Lance, intermingling with the already-present confusion. The mixture makes him feel sort of light-headed. “A- a pathway between _universes_?” he manages to ask after a pregnant pause, voice weak.

 

      “Yes, that is correct,” Coran says solemnly.

 

      The room falls into absolute silence. Neither Paladin can process the complete reality of their situation, so they sit beside one another, staring ahead without saying a word.

 

      Lance feels like laughing, or crying, or yelling – maybe all three at once. Then again, sleeping also seems appetizing at the moment. He can hibernate until this is all over, and he’s back in his _own_ universe, with his fluffy blue robe and his face masks and his Blue Lion slippers.

 

_‘My own_ universe _,’_  he thinks, feeling much fainter now. _‘Maybe... maybe I’m sleeping. Maybe I was knocked out during the fight and this is all some weird coma dream. Yeah...’_ He looks at Coran’s greying hair, at the wrinkles marring his face, and Lance sways in his seat, swallowing. “Ok,” he says, pausing to nod. “Ok...” he repeats, eyebrows drawing together, inching up his forehead. He feels very, _very_ lost. “So this is a thing now?” The last vowel breaks as it leaves his mouth. If he weren’t so shell-shocked, he would be embarrassed.

 

      Keith looks at him for a second, lips pursed, eyes guarded, before turning back to Coran. “So what are our chances of getting back to our universe?” he asks.

 

      “It’s...” Coran stops. He sighs, weary and sad and looking far too old to be the boisterous personality Lance knows. Then again, the Coran that Lance knows isn’t _this_ Coran. “This doesn’t happen normally – I’ve only ever heard of the two situations separate, and never happening at the same time, in the same wormhole. Honestly, I’m not sure if Allura can recreate even one of those instances. She’s never attempted something like that before.” His shoulders fall, and his mouth stretches into a deep, remorseful frown, making the wrinkles on his face more prominent. Making him look even older. “I’ll contact her today, although I’m not sure when she’ll receive the message. She’s currently on a mission, and should only be back by tomorrow afternoon.”

 

      “In other words,” Lance begins. His ears are ringing and his mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton. His voice sounds strange, almost like it’s not even coming from him – in fact, he doesn’t feel attached to his body at all. He smacks his lips together a few times, and only just manages to say, “We’re fucked,” before he falls forward.

 

      The world goes dark around him, and the surrounding noise fades into nothingness.

 

* * *

 

_‘Here’s to another bonding moment you won’t remember,’_ Keith thinks as he holds a surprisingly heavy Lance.

 

      Although he’d knocked his chair to the ground in the process, he’d managed to catch his friend in the nick of time. Now, Lance lies with his head rested on Keith’s forearm, and his torso squishing Keith’s legs against the metal floor. It’s a very uncomfortable position.

 

      Keith turns his attention back to Coran and Augur, who are both looking at him and Lance with varying degrees of concern and surprise. Keith feels a spark of anger, though he’s not quite sure who it’s directed at. All he knows is that Lance isn’t ok.

 

      “He needs a doctor,” he says, tone guarded, arms tightening ever so slightly around his friend. Lance mumbles incoherently, eyelids fluttering, but remains unconscious.

 

      Augur nods swiftly, already on the move. They press a button – big, round and glowing green – on one of the control panels. “A medic should be here any moment,” they tell Keith, afterwards. “I... if it’s any consolation, Mitis would have noticed if anything were amiss with his health, Red Paladin. I am sure that it is merely a question of fatigue mingled with shock. This is a very... taxing scenario.” Their mouth twitches into an almost-smile, but it’s stiff and out of place. Keith doesn’t feel reassured at all, only wary.

 

      And he is wary of the person sitting across from him, who wears the face of an older, more tired Coran, but who _isn’t_. Wary of the Captain, whose stern, aquiline features weren’t made for smiling – only to look strict and harsh. Wary of the walls around him, and the floor beneath his feet, all made of a shining, unblemished chrome which is too perfect, too _orderly_ , to be real. Most of all, though, he’s wary of the shade of Lance’s skin, because it’s supposed to be brown, and not sickly pale like it is now.

 

      The medics take too long to arrive. Impatience seizes control of Keith’s temper, and he would be pacing if he weren’t holding onto his friend. His legs have long since gone numb, but still Keith sits with Lance cradled against him, refusing to move even an inch. Every few seconds he glances towards the door and sighs when it remains closed. Lance continues to shift and mumble, half-awake, and Keith doesn’t know whether to try and wake him, or to leave him be. There’s only so much Keith can do other than curse the medics for taking so long.

 

      In reality, it only takes the medics about a minute or so to come. To Keith, it is a lifetime and then some.

 

      When they finally _do_ rush into the room, Keith watches them work with cold eyes, and an even colder frown. To his annoyance, they hardly seem threatened. It only means that they’re concentrated, though, so he lets it slide.

 

      They mutter amongst themselves while they work, checking Lance’s pulse, his blood pressure, his temperature – all in the span of forty nine seconds, which Keith counts painstakingly. Then one of them turns to look at Augur, asking, “When was the last time he ate?”

 

      At the question, Augur’s expression turns a little dark. “I asked to have him fed, once he had been moved,” they respond.

 

      “It’s quite alright,” another medic says. “Looks like he’s regaining consciousness, now. He can chew some jellies.” She peers down at Lance, smile bright and sunny, a perfect copy of motherly devotion. In turn, Lance looks at her through squinted eyes, then at the arm resting against his own, and the person it belongs to. Keith offers a little smile, but the gesture goes unnoticed by his friend, who turns back to the medic in front of him. “Blue Paladin, I need you to eat some of these, now, please.” Lance opens his mouth a little, motivated at the thought of food, and chews on one of the little, pink-tinted spheres he’s offered. Once he’s eaten a couple more, the medic draws back, still smiling. “He should feel better in a few more ticks, though I do suggest that he eats something else soon.”

 

      “I will contact the canteen immediately,” Augur promises, fingers already moving across their various control panels.

 

      Not-Coran hovers over Lance, concern shining bright and unrestrained in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so he fidgets with the clasps on his sleeves. Lance doesn’t seem to mind the attention. Then again, he’s also barely awake.

 

      Lance looks better and better with every passing moment. Keith doesn’t have to worry about him – not that he was worried. Much. It’s just... _unsettling_ to see Lance so vulnerable like this. So quiet, and pale. Even despite the fact that, most days, Lance’s only goal is to get on his nerves, the idiot is still his teammate. His friend, too, although he seriously doubts the feeling is mutual.

 

      Here’s the thing about Keith, before: he lives on Earth, and he has nothing. No family, no friends, nobody he can consider an ally. There is only the place where he sleeps and eats and works; a place which he can’t call home, because he doesn’t know what a ‘home’ is.

 

      Here’s the thing about Keith, now: he lives in a castle, and he has a team. There is Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance, who are humans, and who he knows, mostly, from before. There is Allura, and Coran, who are Altean, and who he only met a few weeks ago. They are the closest thing to a family that Keith has ever known, and he will never admit this out loud. They already have families of their own, families which he will never belong to. This is fine – Keith is just glad to have them for now.

 

      So Lance is his friend, and more, even – a brother. They sure fight like siblings, from what Keith has heard of ‘sibling rivalry,’ and Lance is always rambling on about how they’re longstanding-rivals, anyways. As far as Keith can tell, neither of them holds any disdain, or outright hate, for the other. There’s never any venom when they banter, either. It’s all just harmless, mindless teasing. Nothing serious, or hurtful, or intentionally malicious.

 

      When your family is hurt, Keith knows the typical response is to be worried. Until recently, he’s never felt concern over other people.

 

      It happened first, when he found Shiro strapped down like a lab rat; second, when he couldn’t do anything to help Pidge on the other side of that force field; third, when he saw Lance, unconscious on the floor, and Shiro beside him, handcuffed, shoulders slumping in defeat; fourth, when Lance wouldn’t heal faster, wouldn’t wake up sooner, suspended in the healing pod; fifth, when Allura was captured. Now, for a sixth time, the familiar feeling returns as he looks at the dark smudges beneath Lance’s eyes, and the pallor that’s spread across his skin like a stain. Still, though, it’s not like he’s tearing hair from his head with worry – it’s a perfectly healthy amount of concern, and that’s it.

 

      The medics stay until the food has arrived, speaking with Lance in low tones. It’s around that time that he’s able to sit up straight without swaying. His skin is also back to its normal shade, which is something the medics comment on happily. All the attention looks like it’s making Lance flustered. Keith suspects that it’s mostly due to the look on the medics’ face. There’s a reverent sort of gleam in their gazes, something which you’d expect from fans meeting their idols. Keith startles when he realizes that this assumption might hold true. For all he knows, he and his teammates could be heroes in this universe.

 

      A trolley of food is rolled into the room. Surprisingly, Keith spots more than on dish that looks like regular old Earth food.

 

      As his stomach grumbles unhappily, Keith becomes aware of how hungry he is. In turn, Lance looks just about ready to stuff his face. The moment they’ve gotten a plate and some cutlery, the two dig in.

 

      It doesn’t take long to sate their hunger. Keith eats a plate full of fruit and a loaf of what looks like some sort of bread, and drinks three cups of water. On the other hand, Lance eats about two plates full of food, and nearly drinks a whole jug of juice. When he’s finished, he breathes a long, satisfied sigh.

 

      “Feeling better now, Lance?” Not-Coran inquires, smiling. There is relief in his eyes, as well as a quiet, subdued warmth. So far, he and Augur have kept to themselves, saying and doing nothing since the moment Lance had been examined.

 

      Their silence had been welcome. Everything has been happening so fast; Keith still can’t wrap his head around the fact that not only are they in a different moment in time, but they’re also in a different universe. Not to mention that they have no idea of how to get back. It’s a little hard to accept straight away, if you ask him. He’s just glad that he’s not facing this alone.

 

      Not for the first time, he wonders where the rest of his team wound up. Before, his biggest worry was being thrown into a galaxy a million light years away, but now... If he and Lance had ended up in the future of an alternate universe, what the hell could have happened to the others?

 

      Worry burns like coals in his chest, restricting his breath. He schools his face back into something neutral and ignores the feeling. There is no time for this – the only thing he and Lance can do is find a way to return to their own time, and their own reality. To their home.

 

      “I’m good now, thanks,” Lance says, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. He’s smiling, but Keith can pick up on the waver of his voice, and the hesitance in his eyes. So he’s still just as weirded out by this as Keith, then. “I really needed that.”

 

      “Did they not feed you?” Augur asks, and there is concern in their tone as well, however hidden it might be. “When you were moved?”

 

      Now, Lance frowns. “Uh, no.”

 

      “My deepest apologies, Blue Paladin.” Augur’s expression is back to being as stony as usual. Keith is surprised to see the worry still linger, though, in the depths of their gaze. “I will most certainly find out what happened.”

 

      “Yeah, it’s...” This time, Lance looks halfway amused, halfway smug, and Keith can only guess that he’s figured out the high probability of them being famous. Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes, feeling relieved that his friend is almost back to normal. “It’s fine – don’t worry about it.”

 

      “I will find out the cause of this negligence,” Augur repeats slowly, almost like a promise.

 

      For a moment, it appears that Lance is going to respond. Before he can utter a word, Not-Coran intervenes, saying, “Well, then.” He places his hands on his hips, and Keith notices that the concern in his eyes has been replaced by something much happier. Something between nostalgia and fondness, which softens the lines of his face. If it weren’t for the greying hair, he’d almost look like, well, _Coran_. “I have to contact Allura, and assign you boys a room.”

 

      “A room?” Keith echoes. “Here?” He’s only been on the station for a day, but he’s already sick of the place. It reminds him too much of one of Zarkon’s ships. It doesn’t remind him enough of home.

 

      “No,” Not-Coran says with some degree of amusement. Keith wonders if the discomfort on his face is blatantly obvious, or if Not-Coran is just good at reading people. “We’ll be heading to the Castle of Lions.”

 

      Excitement bleeds into Lance’s face, although it seems as if he’s trying to rein it in. “Does this mean we’ll get to meet our future other-selves?” he asks, finally able to school his expression into something more neutral.

 

      “I... I think it would be better to reduce your exposure to this universe, Lance,” Not-Coran responds. “Although it may not be your own reality, the majority of alternate universes tend to be similar to one another, the only changes being miniscule aspects. We don’t know what kind of effect it would have on the future of your universe, if you were to know anything else about this one.” His smile turns a tad sympathetic as the enthusiasm fades from Lance’s eyes. “If it’s any consolation, I am sure you all will turn out to be great heroes.”

 

_‘If we ever get back,’_ Keith thinks, watching Lance’s lips stretch into a small smile. “When do we leave?”

 

      “Right now, I suppose.” Not-Coran says, before turning towards Augur. “To my knowledge, both of their Lions have been repaired?” At the mention of their Lions, Keith and Lance perk up.

 

      “Yes,” Augur replies. “They are in top condition, and seem to be missing their Paladins.” They are smiling now, as well. It isn’t as stiff, or as unnatural, like before – it is just the faintest bit warm, and a little knowing, too.

 

      “Fantastic! Let’s go, then!”

 

      The Captain leads them to the hangar, which is bustling with activity this time of day. Despite the amount of guards, mechanics, and pilots, Keith’s eyes lock onto his Lion the moment he steps foot into the room.

 

      Both Lions look as pristine as ever, shining brilliantly beneath the lights. Keith can’t keep the smile off his face. A swell of happiness and relief blooms in his chest, spreading warmth throughout his entire body. He hears Lance talking loudly to his own Lion, and his smile widens.

 

      “Hey, kitty,” Keith murmurs, running a hand along glossy red paint. “You miss me?” Beneath his fingers, he feels the engine hum. It sounds like a happy purr. His hand stills, and he breathes a long, content sigh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

      Despite everything that’s happened so far, they still have their Lions. It’s a huge, _huge_ comfort to have.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So........ the Big Reveal™ has finally happened. This chapter was easier to write, but I'm still not 100% comfortable with it. I hope you all enjoyed it!!
> 
> Tell me what you think! I enjoyed exploring Keith's character, but I'm not entirely sure I've done him justice - creative criticism is always appreciated. It's one of the only ways I can grow as a writer!  
> Previews for next chapter: Keith sneaks around the castle, and a wild Allura appears (+ some others, probably)
> 
> Also: This is going to be a... super.. slow burn.... (bcos both Lance and Keith are dense as hell).... So be prepared for a lot of floundering, flustered boys, and just general pining!


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay!! I've been pretty busy lately, so I just haven't had the time to write. I also hit a nasty writer's block a few days ago, so that didn't help much.
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Thank you all for the support you've shown - it means the world to me!!

      “Alright, Paladins,” Not-Coran says. Keith and Lance turn to face him, and the happy glimmer in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “If you would follow me in your respective Lions, we should reach the castle within a few hours.”

 

      The news brings a small frown to Keith’s face. “A few hours? Why so long?” he asks. When they left Earth, it only took a few minutes to reach the edge of the Solar System – a journey which should’ve taken _months_. If this trip is going to take _hours_ , just how far away is the castle?

 

      “Well... Pidge only managed to stabilize the new thrusters on my ship a few days ago. It’s still not as fast as any of your Lions, but a few hours is nothing compared to what it would’ve taken before.” Not-Coran pauses, straightening his pose, expression shifting to something more serious. “The castle is a few galaxies away, so the trip was bound to take some time, regardless. With that being said, I think we’ve just about overstayed our welcome.” He turns towards Augur without waiting for a reply, and says, “Thank you for repairing their Lions, and for everything else. If you could make sure word of this doesn’t get out, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

 

      Augur nods once, eyes solemn. “Of course,” they respond. Then, they face Keith and Lance. “Once again, Paladins, I am sorry for the way you were treated. I hope you leave this place with peace of mind, and I wish you the best of luck in returning to your home.”

 

      It’s not like _Keith_ was treated badly. Really... all things considered, he’s been through worse.   _Lance_ is the one with the red marks around his wrists, and the one who passed out due to stress and hunger. Yet Keith’s sure he’s the only one who feels irritation and mistrust flare each time he so much as glances at Augur, which doesn’t make much sense. Shouldn’t Lance show some apprehension as well?

 

      Keith watches as Lance says goodbye to the Captain, thanking them afterwards. When it’s his turn, though, all he can muster is a stoic nod. Nothing more. He boards his Lion without looking back, and pretends not to notice the small, disappointed frown on Augur’s face. There’s no point in thinking about it, anyways. He doesn’t owe anything to the one who hurt his friend.

 

      Atop his chair lies his helmet and, beneath it, his suit. He wastes no time in putting both items on. The idea of leaving this creepy Station once and for all is enough to boost his morale, as well as the fact that he’s able to pilot his Lion again. He can feel that it’s missed him, too.

 

      As he settles into his seat, the Red Lion’s engine purrs in anticipation. It brings a tiny smile to his face. “Don’t worry,” he mumbles, establishing a link with both Not-Coran and Lance’s ships. “This time, I won’t pass out.”

 

* * *

 

      It takes exactly three hours and seventeen minutes to reach the Castle of the Lions. The trip is silent, yet peaceful – a wonderful interlude in an otherwise hectic day. Lance cherishes every second of it, and tries not to think too much about his current situation, however cool it may be. Every now and then, though, something along the lines of, _‘I’m a more awesome version of Marty Mcfly. Space Marty Mcfly,’_ will pop up in his mind.

 

      When they finally land in the castle’s hangar, the blatant lack of life draws a sharp contrast to what Lance is accustomed to seeing. He isn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but the empty, quiet atmosphere sets him on edge.

 

      He knows the Allura of this universe is off on a mission, and, from what he gathered from what Coran had said, he can safely guess that Pidge is still around, but what about the others? An awful thought worms its way into his head, and although he does his best to dispel it, nothing seems to work.

 

      Is Zarkon _still_ alive? Is that what the mission is about? If so, then that means... that means that this universe has been dealing with Zarkon for a long, _long_ time. Lance doesn’t want to know what that would entail – the losses and the- the deaths. He takes a deep breath and takes off his helmet, steeling himself. Even if that turns out to be true, this isn’t his future. If he has any say in the matter, this won’t _ever_ be his future.

 

      Keith and Coran are already outside and waiting for him. The latter of the two seems far more cheery, but Lance can understand Keith’s discomfort. He’s going through the same thing, after all.

 

      Even though Keith thinks of himself as so _cool_ and _mysterious_ , Lance recognizes homesickness when he sees it. He’s had to face it ever since he left Earth. Sure, space is awesome – it really, _really_ is, – and Lance wouldn’t trade his position as Paladin for _anything_. Most of the time, though... He misses his family. Misses waking up to the smell of sea salt and breakfast, and the gentle sound of his mother’s laughter, or the raucous laughter of his little siblings, or-

 

      And now it’s even worse. Now, he doesn’t even know if he’ll make it back to his own universe, much less Earth. It’s hard to keep positive about the situation.

_'At least Keith is here,’_  he thinks, taking the final step into the hangar. _‘We can figure something out with Allura and Coran. Hopefully.’_

 

      Coran leads the two Paladins to a section of rooms in the east wing of the castle. He remains quiet throughout the entire trip, reminding Lance once again just how different he is from the other Coran. Or maybe it’s just because he’s old.

 

      It’s only as they come to a stop that Coran speaks, “Here we are!” He makes a grand, sweeping gesture towards one of the doors lining the hallway. “There are some clean clothes in there that should fit, and the beds have already been made. The lavatories are down the hall to the left.” His smile falls a tad as his expression sobers. “I’m going to contact Allura now. It shouldn’t take that long, but...” He takes a deep breath. “ _Please_ , boys, try not to wander. I know you two are terribly curious, but I fear that if you learn anymore it might upset the balance between past, present and future. So... Just stay in your room.”

 

      Truth is, the only thing Lance is interested in at the moment is sleeping. He’s had enough excitement for now. Later, though, he’s definitely going to snoop – he thinks he’s earned that.

 

      “Right,” he says, nodding. “Balance... very important, wouldn’t want to upset that. Don’t worry – we won’t wander. Right, Keith?” The only reaction his question elicits is a slight tilt of Keith’s head – a poor example of a nod, but a nod nonetheless. Lance turns back to Coran, smile reassuring. The look on Coran’s face is utterly unimpressed.

 

      A second later, Coran sighs, resigned. There’s a glimmer of fondness in his eyes, though, so Lance doesn’t feel too bad about lying to his face. “Just keep what I said in mind if you happen to stray from your room, alright? I’ll see you boys in a few ticks. Then, we can rummage around the kitchen for some lunch.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hall, disappearing around the corner a moment later.

 

      Silence fills the air, not exactly awkward yet nowhere near comfortable. Lance sneaks a glance towards Keith and, just as he’d expected, there’s a small, thoughtful frown on his friend’s face. He feels the urge to speak, to wipe the frown away and replace it with a smile, but he can’t think of anything funny, or anything that would lighten the mood. Keith doesn’t understand his sense of humour, anyways, which is a shame. He has a nice laugh, an even nicer smile – the kind that lights up a room. Not that Lance tells jokes just to hear Keith laugh, or anything.

 

      Scratching the back of his neck, he turns his attention back to the door in front of them. Suddenly, it occurs to him that Coran had only mentioned one room, meaning... “Guess we’re gonna be roommates, huh?” he points out.

 

      Keith hums a little. “Guess so,” he says, evenly. He looks at Lance out of the corner of his eyes, and continues, “Does that bother you?”

 

      The question catches Lance off guard. “No,” he replies, maybe a little too quickly. “Does it bother _you_?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out challenging, but Keith’s whole face is guarded, and it’s hard to tell how he feels about the situation. Lance doesn’t want to be the only one okay with sharing a room – that would awkward.

 

      “No,” Keith answers, short and simple. Then, he turns away from the door and starts walking.

 

      “Hey,” Lance calls after him, brow furrowing. “Where are you going?”

 

      Keith turns his head, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me you aren’t curious,” he says. When Lance’s only response is surprised silence, he adds, almost as an afterthought, “You don’t have to come.”

 

      Torn between resting and adventure, Lance stares helplessly at Keith as he nears the end of the hall. With a huff, he makes his decision and rushes to catch up with his friend, sending a silent apology to Coran in the process.

 

      For the first couple of minutes, they walk side by side without talking. There are a few doors they pass by, but Keith pays no attention to them, trudging on resolutely. He probably already knows where he wants to go. The thought piques Lance’s interest, and he spends the next few moments trying to figure out which room Keith wants to see.

 

      They’ve already seen the hangar, and the general layout of the majority of the eastern wing, so those two can be crossed off the list... The control room wouldn’t be a good idea, since that’s probably where Coran is at the moment. Maybe the training arena, then? Keith practically _lives_ there, so it would make sense.

 

      “So,” Lance drawls, finished with his guessing game. “What’s our destination?”

 

      Keith eyes him for a little bit, as if he were weighing the pros and cons of telling Lance where they’re going. Some seconds later, he looks away and answers, “My room.”

 

      “Oh,” is what Lance says, followed by “Aren’t you going to ask me out to dinner, first?” because he’s an idiot without a filter, and he hardly ever thinks before he speaks. Needless to say, when Keith turns his head, face half-confused, half-annoyed, a deep red blush has spread across Lance’s face.

 

      “Why would I ask you to dinner?” Keith questions, rolling his eyes. Completely unbothered by the fact that Lance just flirted with him (albeit unintentionally). Either he literally doesn’t care, or he’s just as dense as a slab of metal. Lance prays that it’s the latter case – he’ll never be able to face Keith again otherwise. “We just ate a few hours ago. Plus, it’s lunch time.”

 

      Breathing a quick, quiet sigh, Lance thanks whatever higher being had been listening to him before forcing out an awkward laugh. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “You know me – biggest appetite in the universe.”

 

      “Yeah...” Keith mumbles, looking, for the most part, neutral. “We’re almost there.”

 

      A few hallways later, they arrive at the western dormitory. Lance notices change as soon as he rounds the corner.

 

      There’s a long, worn carpet on the ground, and his eyes widen ever so slightly while he takes the image in. It’s an intricately woven masterpiece, to say the least. Bright, shimmering strands of fabric depict three setting suns amongst a field of beautiful red flowers. Lance has never seen anything like it in his entire life.

 

      Other than that, all of the doors have been equipped with what looks like some sort of touch pad. He wonders, briefly, what they’re for, until Keith walks up to one of them and places his hand on it. The screen lights up, scanning his hand, and then blinks blue. The door opens not a moment later and Keith steps into the room, Lance not far behind.

 

      An overhead light flickers on, casting everything a serene glow. Unfortunately, Keith stands completely still in the doorway, preventing Lance from going any further. Faintly annoyed, Lance looks over his friend’s shoulder to see what all the fuss is about.

 

      “There’s...” Keith starts, only to cut himself off. Lance finishes the sentence without a problem: _Nothing_. The room looks uninhabited.

 

      Shaking his head with a frown, Keith moves towards the closet and opens it. There’s nothing inside – it’s completely barren. Undeterred, Keith checks the drawers below, the chest on the far end of the room and then, lastly, the small box beneath the desk. Just like before, they’re all empty, and the implication turns the air thick with unspoken fears.

 

      The question returns to Lance’s mind without his consent: _‘What if Zarkon’s still alive?’_ If he is, could that mean the Keith of this universe has-? Lance stops himself from finishing that thought, startled, and turns to his friend with wide eyes.

 

      Keith’s frown has deepened, and the look on his face seems... _scared_ , almost. “It’s like I don’t even exist,” he says, voice strained. He’s avoiding eye contact. “Do you think that I–” he pauses, swallowing, and takes a deep breath. A moment passes, and he’s regained his composure. “Let’s go see your room.” He brushes past Lance without waiting for a reply. Lance follows him anyways, concern bubbling in his stomach.

 

      It only takes a few seconds to reach the door at the end of the hallway, but they seem to last forever. This time, the silence is uncomfortable and heavy, and Lance can’t think of a god damn thing to say. The only thing he manages is, “I’m sure you just moved into a new room,” but it comes out hesitant, halting, and not reassuring at all. He’s not surprised when Keith doesn’t even answer.

 

      With a final glance towards his friend, Lance places his hand upon the pad. Like before, it blinks blue before the door opens, revealing...

 

      “Wow,” Lance mumbles, drawn into the room. It’s- well, it’s a lot more welcoming than Keith’s, and bigger that he remembers. Also: way more different.

 

      In place of a bunk bed, there’s a double bed covered in a soft-looking comforter. Five shelves have been put up, and on top of them there’s a variety of books and knick knacks and pictures.  The desk is orderly enough (a feat which Lance never thought he would ever accomplish), with a funky lantern, a neat stack of books, and a little pot filled with pens and pencils.

 

      The pictures hold his interest for more easily than the rest of the room, making him forget Keith’s predicament, for the moment.

 

      He gravitates towards the shelves, eyes rounded in awe. There are so many – ones of the whole team, him and Keith, his family, landscapes, the Lions... He picks up one of the frames, mouth tugging into a wide smile. It’s of him and his family, but he’s _older_. That means... That means there’s a way to visit them.

 

      He picks another photo off of the shelf, smile shifting to a grin. The picture shows him and his team, all smiling, standing tall and proud. He has his arm around Keith’s neck, and his other around Pidge’s. Hunk is holding up a hand in the form of a peace sign, a wide grin on his face. Shiro, Allura, and Coran are all standing at the back, looking like a bunch of proud parents. Everyone is noticeably older, so much so that Lance can barely recognize himself. He suspects that the photo was taken recently, judging from Coran’s appearance. The best part, though, is that they’re all so _happy_. Nobody could look that carefree if they were still fighting Zarkon.

 

      Turning around with the frame in his grip, he faces Keith. There’s no doubt in his mind, now – nothing bad has happened to future Keith, and this photo is proof of that.

 

      “Come look at this,” he urges, moving to stand beside his friend. Reluctantly, Keith observes the object in Lance’s hands. “I’m guessing that this was taken not too long ago. See, look at Coran.” He points at the Altean in question, eyes darting to gauge Keith’s reaction. The moment he sees relief, he turns his attention back to the photo, satisfied. To lighten the mood further, he says, “Wow, you never will outgrow that mullet, will you?” with a lopsided smirk.

 

      Keith snorts. “Are you kidding me?” he deadpans, jabbing a finger at the other Lance’s face. “That beard is tasteless.”

 

      Lance narrows his eyes, scrutinizing his otherself’s facial hair. It _is_ sort of ugly – almost a goatee, which he’d sworn never to grow. He purses his lips and searches the photo for something to shift Keith’s attention to. After a moment, his gaze catches a glinting gold band on Keith’s left hand. His mouth drops open.

 

      “Holy shit,” he exclaims, bringing the frame closer to his face in order to make sure it isn’t a trick of the light. The metal band remains attached to Keith’s ring finger. He pulls back, amused, and points to his discovery with a mischievous grin. “Looks like _someone_ ties the knot in the future,” he sings. “Never knew you had it in you, Keith – I’m so proud.” For dramatic flair, he wipes an invisible tear from his eye.

 

      “Give me that,” Keith demands, taking the frame from Lance’s grip. “What are you _talking_ about?” He stares at the image, eyes roving. The moment he sees the ring, he goes silent with shock. Lance holds back a grin.

 

      “I guess you’re not too serious to settle down, huh?” he jokes as Keith looks up at him.

 

      Wordlessly, Keith rolls his eyes and points to something else. “I guess you’re not too _immature_ to settle down, huh?” he mimics. Meanwhile, Lance’s gaze locks onto the ring shining on _his_ finger.

 

      “Holy shit,” Lance says, taking the picture back from his friend’s grasp. He looks down, then back up, back down, and, finally, back up at Keith. “ _Holy shit!_ ” he repeats. “Who do you think we married? You think it was an alien? How long do you think we’ve both been married?” He can’t resist the urge to look at the rings again. “Wow... Just- _wow_.” Carefully, he puts the picture back in its rightful place, and runs a hand through his hair. “ _Wow_. I can’t even- can _you_ believe this? I’m going to get married.”

 

      He certainly doesn’t want to die alone, but _marriage_? It isn’t something he thinks about. Besides the fact that he’s only had one girlfriend, he’s also a teenager. He has his whole life ahead of him! It’s sort of comforting, though – knowing that he has the chance to find someone he loves enough to marry. On one hand, he wants to know who that someone is, but on the other hand... maybe it would be best not to. Wouldn’t that take the fun out of falling in love?

 

      “I think we should head back,” Keith suggests quietly, breaking the shocked silence that has settled over them. Lance nods, and they leave the room without another word.

 

      The way back seems to go by quicker. When they arrive, Coran is surprisingly absent.

 

      Keith reaches out and opens the door and enters the room without further delay, Lance following after him.

 

      The room is as big as Lance had been expecting, almost identical to his own. It has the standard bunk bed, a closet, a large desk, and a swivel chair that looks very comfortable. There are two piles of clothes on the desk, plus two sets of towels, and a basket filled with basic toiletries. Lance wonders who set this all up, and where exactly they got the Colgate.

 

      He forgoes that train of thought in favour of sleep. There’s _too much_ to think about, in Lance’s opinion. Time travel, alternate universes, and now _marriage_? He’s _exhausted_ , both mentally and physically. A nap seems good right about now.

 

      However, just as he’s gripped the latter leading to the top bunk, a knock on the door echoes throughout the room. Holding back a groan, Lance’s shoulders slump in defeat.

 

      The door opens before either teen has the chance to answer it. Coran strides in, wide-eyed and looking pretty happy. “I have good news, Paladins!” he announces, smiling. “Allura’s mission is going splendidly – so splendidly, in fact, that she’ll be here tomorrow, bright and early. Moreover, I have relayed your situation to her, and she is confident that we will be able to find a solution.”

 

      A bud of hope blossoms within Lance’s chest, and it’s small and fragile, but it’s just enough to soothe his fears, if only a little.

 

      Keith isn’t as convinced. “How confident?” he inquires, crossing his arms. “I mean, from the way you were talking before, it seemed like there wasn’t any possible way to get back.”

 

      Coran’s gaze softens. “I understand that you don’t want to get your hopes up, Keith,” he says. “But you can trust in Allura’s judgment – she doesn’t make hollow promises, and she’s also quite powerful. As a wise man once told me, ‘ _Where there is a will, there is a way’_.”

 

_‘That definitely sounds like something Shiro would say,’_ Lance thinks, mouth twitching upwards. Beside him, Keith says nothing more.

 

      “Well, then,” Coran sighs after a pregnant pause, smile still firmly in place. “I hope you boys are hungry. The chef was more than happy to cook for us.”

 

* * *

 

      The moment they step into the dining hall, Lance realizes two things. First, the chef hadn’t been happy to cook, they’d been _ecstatic_ – the table is absolutely filled with food and drinks, almost leaving no room for them to eat. Second, there’s more than one platter displaying dishes he’s eaten a thousand times before, ever since he was a little kid.

 

      Once he gets over his initial shock, he wastes no time in sitting down, piling his plate with as much food as he can. When he takes his first bite, it tastes so much like home that, if he closes his eyes, he can almost hear the seagulls, can almost smell the fresh scent of seawater. He tries to savour the feeling, but it fades by the time he’s halfway finished. The food is still good, afterwards; it just isn’t as good as what he can remember.

 

      Coran says nothing of the chef, despite Lance’s many attempts at wheedling an answer out of him. Lance gives up eventually, sulking into his cup. Is it so bad that he wants to know who made the food? What the hell could happen to the _‘balance’_ if he does find out?

 

      After lunch, Coran shows them some parts of the castle. It’s most likely to keep an eye on them, make sure they don’t get into trouble, but Lance appreciates the distraction anyways. Besides, he’s done his share of snooping for today.

 

      They end up burning some more time in the control room, where Coran talks about the different planets of the system they’re currently parked in. He also lets them look at a whole album of photographs from around the galaxy. The pictures show all kinds of wildlife, and landscapes. Even Keith seems invested, after a while.

 

      By the time they make it back to their room, Lance feels like he’s dragging his feet from exhaustion. The only thing he can think of is sleep, which is a blessing in and of itself, if you ask him.

 

      “Hey,” Keith calls, right as Lance has settled onto the bed.

 

      A defensive frown pulls at Lance’s mouth. “What, you want the top bunk too?”

 

      Keith rolls his eyes. “No, Lance,” he replies, shaking his head. “I just wanted to know how... Do you- I mean, are you ok?”

 

      Where the hell did _that_ come from? He feels _fine_ , aside from a little tiredness.

 

      Instead of answering straight away, however, he mulls the question over. Could Keith be referring to when he passed out? The memory of waking up with Keith’s arms around him surfaces, and a pale pink dusts his cheeks. That had been... not as uncomfortable as he would have thought. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing to wake up to, but it had happened _hours_ ago. Keith isn’t still thinking about that – he must be talking about their general situation.

 

      “I have to admit,” Lance begins. “This is probably the weirdest thing that could have happened, and...” He looks away, taking a deep breath. “Honestly, I’m... Not sure how I feel.” Sad, angry, happy, indifferent – nothing really applies. He’s still trying to swallow down the fact that he’s not only a time-traveler, but a dimension-hopper as well. Not to mention that he’s also apparently _married to somebody_ in this universe. “Weird, too, I guess,” he continues. “ _Really_ weird.” He looks back at Keith, thinking about everything his friend has been through today. Softer than he means to, he says, “What about you?”

 

      Keith seems surprised to be asked the same question in return. This is probably one of the most normal conversations they’ve ever had. Usually, there’s a lot of insults and teasing involved when they talk, which is mostly Lance’s fault. He can admit that he’s guilty of goading Keith into a fight now and again. In his defense, it’s fun to argue with Keith.

 

      “I’m ok,” Keith says, a little haltingly, almost unsure of himself. When he doesn’t add anything else, Lance rests his head back on the pillow and shuts his eyes. The room turns quiet, the only sound being the shuffle of Keith’s feet against the floor. Then, even that stops, and there is absolute silence. Lance drifts off to sleep in no time at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, Allura still hasn't shown up... I got too caught up in writing Keith and Lance's interactions, so I'm sorry if you were let down! I promise that she will definitely make an appearance next chapter, though!
> 
> Previews for next chapter: Allura returns to the castle, and there is talk about how to get Keith and Lance home.
> 
> Also: Feel free to point out any mistakes! I'll be happy to correct them! The same goes for constructive criticism - I'm all ears for suggestions on how to improve!!  
> Also^2: Thank you, again, for taking the time to read, comment, and/or leave kudos! I'm always happy to see others enjoying something I've created!


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! What a hiatus! I have no excuse, so please accept my apologies and this meager morsel of a chapter.
> 
> As always, I love each and every one of you readers! Thank you for choosing to spend your time reading this.
> 
> Re-reading all of your comments really kicked me into gear to finish this chapter! So thank you!!

 

      Falling asleep was harder than waking up, just like it’s always been.

 

      Relaxing doesn’t come easily to Keith. Restlessness overtakes him if he stands still for too long, and the feeling only increases tenfold if he’s lying down. It’s just something that he’s had to grow accustomed to. There’s really no point in wasting time analyzing it. After all, it’s never bothered him before, so why should he care?

 

      At most, he gets five hours of sleep per night. Sometimes, though, if he manages to fall asleep quickly, he can sleep for up to seven hours. Those mornings are the most unpleasant ones to wake up to, since he always feels drowsy and irritable, caught up in that hazy world between sleep and consciousness. Thankfully, though, his internal clock almost never fails to rouse him on time.

 

      When he opens his eyes, he’s fully alert. There is no yawn, or thoughts of going back to sleep; there is only a smooth, nearly instantaneous transition between asleep and awake.

 

      Soft snores fill the otherwise quiet room. Lance’s hand and foot dangle over the edge of the top bunk. Keith’s tempted to scare him. Ultimately, he decides that it’s probably best for Lance to rest some more. Yesterday was taxing, to say the very,  _very_  least.

 

      Keith stares up at the top bunk, recalling the picture Lance had shown him. The team was happy – or, _is_  happy? He can’t deny that _he_  – the _other_  him, the  _Not_ -Keith – had looked especially overjoyed, and the reason could be tied to the secret they’d found out. In this dimension, he’s married. He’s  _married_. To whom, he doesn’t know (and isn’t even sure if he wants to), but that doesn’t matter when he can’t get around the fact that  _he’s married_.

 

      There had been no wedding photos in Lance’s room – at least, none that he could remember seeing from his brief glance around the place. He’s sure they both would have noticed something like that first, though. Regardless, it was sort of strange. Don’t couples usually have those types of pictures on display? He’d always _thought_  so – getting married is kind of a big deal, – but, then again, he’s never come into contact with happy families.

 

      Growing up, it was just him... And fifty nine  _other_  kids, all of them waiting to be adopted into a nice, loving home. What they never told  _him_  was that sometimes, you just don’t get picked ( _especially_ if you’re a hot-headed, temperamental child).  _Sometimes_ , you have to give up on your dream of finding parents who want you, and accept the reality of living in a house where you share a room with four other kids, and wear hand-me-downs that never fit quite right. A place where nothing is ever yours, exclusively, unless you’re the one to buy it, and where your voice fades amongst the crowd of well-behaved children who smile and act like perfect, little cherubs (or, in other words, children who seem worth adopting). A place where you’re kicked to the curb and told to start your life the very moment you’re a legal adult.

 

      In short, his childhood had been lonely and not that fun. He  _did_  have a few friends along the way, but those relationships never failed to deteriorate soon after they’d been formed. It got to a point where he gave up on friendship altogether. In the end he was always left behind, so why bother?

 

      The unwelcome memories sour Keith’s mood, leading to a crinkle in his brow and a small frown. He hadn’t meant to dwell on the past. Taking a deep breath, he dispels those thoughts and shifts his attention elsewhere.

 

      There’s still a mystery shrouding his empty room, one that he intends to figure out before they leave. After seeing that group photo, he’s more or less certain that nothing bad has happened to the Keith of this universe, which grants Lance’s theory more merit. Not-Keith could have just moved into a different room. Maybe he’s even left the castle altogether. It’s odd that the keypad is still set to his prints, though – that may suggest that the change (whatever it is) has only happened recently.

 

      As quietly as he can, he gets up and grabs some clean clothes from the dresser as well as a toothbrush and toothpaste. Then, he leaves the room and makes his way towards the lavatories to take a quick shower.

 

      Once he’s finished, he’ll take the time to sneak around some more.

 

* * *

 

      The chance to snoop is squashed when Keith runs into Not-Coran on his way back to the room.

 

      “Oh, wonderful!” Not-Coran exclaims upon spotting him, cheery as can be. “You’re already awake! Allura has arrived ahead of schedule, and she’s waiting for you both right now in the control room.” He smiles widely, enthusiasm evident a mile away. Then, he glances to the right, towards the door. “I don’t suppose Lance is awake yet...?”

 

      “He was sleeping when I left,” Keith replies. He wastes no time in entering the room, placing the toothbrush and the toothpaste back onto the desk, and throwing his dirty laundry onto the bottom bunk. Snores still emanate from the top bunk, and a quick look proves that Lance is, indeed, still asleep. Not-Coran hovers in the doorway politely, arms crossed behind his back. Keith assumes this means he’s the one who has to wake Lance up.  _Great_.

 

      The first thing he notices, as he approaches, is the tiny puddle of drool on his friend’s pillow. His mouth curls downwards in distaste. “Hey,” He calls. A stretch of silence wears his patience thin, so he tries again, “Lance, time to get up.” No response. Sighing, he steps closer to the bed and grabs hold of Lance’s exposed arm, shaking him a little. “Wake up.”

 

      At the jostling, bleary eyes flicker open. Lance does not wake up all at once, unlike Keith. Instead, he squints and smacks his lips together, hugging his pillow closer to his chest as he attempts to understand what’s going on around him. “Kei-” He pauses, gaze drifting to the door, then back to Keith. “-th?” Using the heels of his hands, he rubs at his eyes, and then yawns. Smile dopey with sleep, he asks, “What’s for breakfast?”

 

      “You both may eat in the control room,” Not-Coran replies. “An empty stomach is no use if we’re to find a way to get you home! Allura has already come up with a few theories, or so she's told me.” He straightens his back, grin optimistic. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re dressed, Lance.”

 

      Lance nods slowly, clambering down the metal ladder without much finesse. Keith’s surprised he makes it down without falling. Then again, Lance can be oddly agile, no matter how much grace he seems to lack.

 

      Keith and Not-Coran wait outside while Lance gets dressed. Thankfully, he only takes a few minutes.

 

      With a quick, sneaky glance to his right, Keith spots the unveiled eagerness alight in Lance’s eyes. It hasn’t been dimmed at all by his lingering drowsiness, which shows how excited he really is to meet Not-Allura.  _‘At least one of us is happy,’_  Keith thinks, only a hint of sarcasm burning through. For once, Lance’s stubborn optimism doesn’t grate on him as much. Keith’s a realist, sure, but... The reality of their situation is hard to swallow, even more so when he considers that the rest of their team might have ended up in similar (if not worse) scenarios. A little optimism could be what they need right now.

 

      Seeing an older version of Coran walking around will still take a while to get used to, though. After all, Not-Coran is just another reminder that they’re stranded in this universe for only God knows how long. Meeting the alternate, aged-up version of Allura probably won’t do any good, either – but she can help. She’s _going_  to help. It’s just a question of whether or not she’ll be able to  _do_  anything- and, wow, where did that optimism go?

 

      With a quick, short breath, Keith focuses on the hallway stretched out in front of him. They’re nearing the control room. Just one more turn, and they’ll be looking at the entrance.

 

      Not-Coran has a bounce to his step, a faint smile on his face. He must be confident in Not-Allura’s abilities. Keith supposes this should reassure him at least a little bit, and he tries to let it – he really,  _really_  does, – but it just doesn’t click. He can’t let himself pretend that everything will turn out right, because there’s  _nothing_  to back that up. They might  _never_  make it back to their universe. They might  _never_  see their team ever again, and that’s- that’s something Keith has prepared himself for, but never like  _this_. When Keith thinks about losing his team,  _they_ leave  _him_  – they move on, they go back to their families, they grow apart. He knows it isn’t just paranoia, knows that it  _will_ happen eventually, and he’s accepted that. He’s made peace with that. It’s his own fault that he grew close to them, that he let them become important. It’s his fault, and he knows he’ll have to let them go one day, because that’s what’s happened his whole life, and that’s what will continue to happen. The point is, he’s prepared himself for  _that_  inevitability, but to lose them like this? The thought weighs heavily in his stomach, ties a knot in his throat that makes it hard to swallow.  _‘Be optimistic, remember?’_  He scolds himself after a beat, blinking hard and fast. Who knew being positive was so  _difficult_?

 

      They come to a stop in front of the control room’s large double sliding doors. Not-Coran steps forward to open them, and Keith takes a deep breath. Beside him, Lance wears a wide, eager grin. All traces of sleepiness have been wiped clean from his face. Something akin to jealousy weaves its way under Keith’s ribcage, spindly and cold and ugly and he can’t  _stop_  it from happening. So he ignores it, watches as the doors slide into the walls silently.

 

      Not-Allura has her back angled towards them. For a scant moment, Keith forgets where he is, what’s happened, because she looks the _same_  – well, from what he can tell, anyways. But then the moment’s gone, and she’s turned around, and he’s faced with a woman who looks more like a queen than a princess.

 

      Her presence fills the room effortlessly, regal and proud and powerful. She’s wearing a space suit similar to those of the Paladins, only hers is white and grey, the chest plate stamped with an insignia he’s seen before, on Captain Augur’s armour. He wonders, briefly, what it represents.

 

      “Good morning,” She greets. The smile on her face is soft, kind, but her eyes are sharp. “Did you two sleep well?”

 

      Keith nods once. He cranes his head to see Lance’s reaction, isn’t surprised when the oaf’s mouth is slightly parted in awe.

 

      It’s no secret that Lance has a little crush on Allura. It’s just a tiny little thing, nothing like  _love_ , but it’s enough, at times, to make him act like an idiot around her. Or maybe he’s simply in awe over meeting another person from this universe. Keith can’t be sure – he’s never been good at reading people.

 

      When Lance does reply, it’s with a fervent nod and a zealous, “Yeah, really well!” Keith is surprised he doesn’t tack on a cheesy pick up line. Not a moment later, however, he  _does_ open his mouth again, but is rudely interrupted by his own rumbling stomach. Pink flares in his cheeks, and he laughs a little awkwardly as he asks, “So, what’s for breakfast?”

 

      Not-Allura smiles and waves towards a trolley Keith hadn’t noticed. There’s a little table beside it, as well as two chairs. Lance offers a quick, bright, “Thank you,” before moving towards the food. Keith follows after giving his own thanks.

 

      It isn’t a feast like supper, but Lance’s eyes light up all the same upon seeing a few particular dishes. Keith can only assume, at this point, that the chef is someone their counterparts know; between now and supper, a lot of his favorite foods have been prepared. It’s a transparent attempt to make him feel more at ease, of course, but it only barely helps. He’s more affected by the implication behind the gesture: the Keith of  _this_  universe is important enough that people care about how his  _counterpart_  feels, and that’s... Well, that’s reassuring – comforting, even, – in some ways. Because even though they might  _look_  alike, they’re  _not_  the same person.

 

      So... Yes, Keith can admit (to himself) that it’s comforting to know that, in at least  _one_  universe among thousands, billions, trillions, an  _infinite_  amount of others, he and his team don’t go their separate ways.  _This_  Keith hasn’t been forgotten, hasn’t been discarded or left behind without a second thought – no, _this_  Keith has carved a place for himself, and he’s part of a home, a family. He’s _married_.

 

      Keith half-expects Not-Allura, or Not-Coran to start speaking while he and Lance eat. Instead, they’re left alone while the two Alteans talk to each other in hushed voices. It’s easy enough to ignore, but Keith would rather know what they’re saying.

 

      Around a quarter of an hour later, Keith and Lance have both finished their breakfast. They leave the dirty dishes on the table and move to stand in front of Not-Allura and Not-Coran.

 

      Keith feels cautious despite the good meal. Hell, he feels cautious despite  _everything_  that’s told him that he  _can_ and _should_ trust these versions of his friends. He knows the truth, though: they may look like the people he knows, but they  _aren’t_ , and they never  _will_ be – just like him and Not-Keith. Besides, a little bit of suspicion never hurt anybody. 

 

      “So,” Allura-2 begins, breaking him out of his train of thought. “I understand that, upon rescuing the Allura of your universe from Zarkon’s central command, you attempted to escape via wormhole. Is this correct?” She waits until the two Paladins nod before continuing, “However, some outside factor altered the wormhole in such a way that it was transformed into a portal between dimensions – moreover, a portal between two different moments in time. Correct?” They nod once again. She takes a shallow breath, gripping her chin between her thumb and index finger. Composing herself for whatever she about to reveal. Keith tries and fails to remain optimistic. “I’ve been thinking about this problem ever since Coran told me,” She says. “I admit it’s quite the riddle, but I am nothing if not perseverant. If you two are anything like my dear friends, then you won’t give up, either.” Now she smiles, and in her eyes shines strength and determination, but also kindness, and encouragement. The picture of a perfect leader. At the back of his mind, Keith wonders if he was right all along – maybe this Allura _is_  a queen. “Now, theoretically, if I were to replicate the corrupted wormhole, I’d need an enormous amount of energy. There’s no telling how unstable that sort of portal will be, either. Furthermore,” She breathes in once, deeply, the break in her speech nearly imperceptible as she goes on, “I’ve only ever attempted to time travel.”

 

      At Not-Allura’s confession, Not-Coran’s eyes bulge in shock, jaw dropping open. Keith can’t blame him for being surprised – he hadn’t been expecting that secret, either. From the confused wrinkle on Lance’s brow, Keith safely assumes they’re all in the same boat. The only question now is: why would Not-Allura keep something like this from her most trusted advisor?

 

      “Allura!” Not-Coran cries. “I never- you didn’t- do you have any  _idea_  the-the sort of  _repercussions_  time travel can have?!” He throws his arms up, bushy brows drawn tightly together. Not-Allura continues to hold her head high, but regret pinches her lips into a frown.

 

      “I am aware, Coran,” She says, her voice soothing, apologetic. “But it was also a long time ago, back when times were-” She hesitates, eyes flickering over towards Lance and Keith. “ _Desperate_. It doesn’t matter, anyways, since I never managed to travel more than a few seconds at a time. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” Not-Coran looks at her for a second, two seconds, and then he nods stiffly, shoulders heaving with a quiet, tired sigh. Her frown grows.

 

      Besides surprise, the confession leaves a foul taste in Keith’s mouth. He’d been right not to trust her fully. Before he can say anything, however, Lance speaks, “So what you’re saying is that you  _can’t_  help us? Because if that’s what you’re saying, then,  _wow_ , that’s just- great.  _Really_  great.” Sarcasm drips heavily from his tongue, his gaze a little incredulous, a little disappointed.

 

      Not-Allura shakes her head once. “That’s not at all what I meant, Lance,” She assures. “I only wanted to make it clear that if I  _am_  the one to open the portal, I’d need to find someone who can show me how. I am confident in my abilities, young Paladins. I only ask that you try to trust in me, as you would trust my counterpart.”

 

      “I’m guessing you’ve already found somebody who can help us, then?” Keith inquires, arms crossed. He’s not entirely sold, but if she  _does_  know somebody else who could help them, then they might have a chance at some sort of way out. After all, Not-Allura has had more time to develop her powers. Years of training and fighting should amount to  _something_ , right?

 

      She tilts her head. “You are correct,” She answers. “You see, while I attempted to figure out ways to get you boys home, I also considered _how_  the wormhole was corrupted with the hope that the answer would be an indirect solution.” She pauses for a moment, purses her lips. “So far, I’m almost certain that a woman called Haggar played an important role. However, I can’t be sure she’s even the same person in your universe.” A grim look settles on Not-Coran’s face at the mention of the name ‘Haggar’, but he doesn’t add any new information. Either he’s still angry, or they’ve already discussed this beforehand.

 

      “Well, who is she?” Lance prompts, just the barest traces of impatience shining through. Keith remains quiet for the time being, carefully weighing each word Not-Allura says. He doesn’t like where this is going.

 

      “A very powerful, very  _cruel_  witch,” She answers frankly. “She was one of Zarkon’s most valuable assets, so it’s not unreasonable to assume that he’d trust her to stop you all from escaping. If she's anything like the Haggar from my universe.”

 

      “Aright,” Keith interrupts, unable to keep silent any longer, and crosses his arms with a slight frown. Irritation draws his brows together, and when he speaks he can’t keep the edge out of his voice, “But how is this  _useful_ to us? If she’s so evil, it’s not like she’ll want to  _help_  us.”

 

      Allura-2 nods. “That’s true, Keith,” She concedes. “But it doesn’t matter what she  _wants_ ,” Now, a slow smile unfurls on her face. Whatever she’s about to say, it’s her trump card, the revelation she’s been slowly building up to ever since they entered the room. “We have her thoughts, her  _memories_ , stored in the Castle. All we need to do is search for the right information.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I have a few things to say!
> 
> 1\. Whenever I write Keith, it devolves into angst. I don't know how it happens. Please forgive me. I really do enjoy exploring his character, though, and I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of him.
> 
> 2\. This is... probably... my leeeast favorite chapter. I really wanted to get it out, though, so you all knew I hadn't abandoned the story! Sorry if it's a disappointment.
> 
> 3\. As I've said before, this is... gonna be... reeeaaally slow burn. Keith's out of depth with his own feelings, but Lance is... waaay more in denial. Either the next chapter, or the one after that, will explore their dynamic a bit more, and there will be some development between them.
> 
> 4\. So far, I've thought of 3 possible endings, so... I really hope to finish this by the end of the year. That's my goal, anyways. I just hope school doesn't get in the way too much! I will have a lot more free time, though, so that's a big plus!
> 
> Finally, thank you all so much for your kind comments and support. You brighten my day!
> 
> Also: Who remembers when I said this fic was going to be between 10 & 15k words? Hah. What a joke.  
> Also^2: I really Love Allura... Like, honestly...


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orz .... I'm... so sorry... lmao. I can't believe this is the first time in four months that I've updated... YIKES...
> 
> ANYWAYS: I hope you enjoy!! &, as always, please feel free to point out any errors!!
> 
> Also: I want to give HUUGE thank you to everyone who's commented, and/or given kudos - really, I... Reading your comments always makes my day & brings a huge smile to my face. Just knowing that someone enjoys what I write, and goes through the trouble of commenting... What an honour :) THANK YOU!!

 

      Lance remembers when they captured Sendak, and the opportunity that arose from having a soldier of Zarkon in their grasp. He remembers the poison which crept and stretched throughout the castle, corrupting data, turning the machines – the whole castle, really – against them. And he remembers that, out of the whole team, it had been Allura and Shiro who came out the most shaken, the most beaten down. AI’s have been a sore subject for the two of them ever since. Considering what they both went through at the time, it isn’t hard to understand why: Allura lost the only traces left of her father, and Shiro... Shiro didn’t like to talk about what happened to him. No matter how much he was bothered by it, he kept the incident bottled up inside, labelled, and never to be visited again (typical martyr material, if you were to ask Lance).

 

      So… Lance is _understandably_ weary of this Allura’s plan. Haven’t these people learned the dangers AI’s can pose? Don’t they know how easy it is to corrupt files? Lance may not be a prodigy like Pidge, or a genius like Hunk, but after what happened last time... He knows enough to get why it’s a bad idea to keep a copy of your enemy’s brain on your computer. Anything can go wrong at any given moment – all it takes is one tiny miscalculation, one malfunction, a single flaw in the system, and then… And then…

 

      With a quick glance towards Keith, Lance is able to spot surprise lingering around the edges of his eyes, bleeding out beneath his usual guarded face. Then the surprise shifts to something that looks more like irritation than anything else, but Lance doesn’t waste time analyzing it. He’s still reeling from the reveal.

 

      “Is that even safe?” Lance asks, looking back at Allura. She seems a bit confused at his question, so he clarifies, “To keep an AI of such a powerful enemy, I mean.”

 

      Understanding dawns on the Princess’s face, followed closely by an honest solemnity. “I understand your concerns far better than I would like to,” Allura says, slow and careful, a deliberate hint of some past event. “But you have nothing to fear, I assure you.” She smiles, then, as if to further her point, but Lance can tell that her words are far from hollow. He doesn’t need the added reassurance, anyways. He can trust that she’s telling the truth, because, well... He can’t imagine a universe where Allura _isn’t_ upfront about things, although he knows such a thing already exists. “All AI’s are kept on separate data banks, so if their files ever become corrupt they’re harmless to the main bank. Unfortunately, this means we can’t access them from here.”

 

      “Where are they, then?” Keith inquires, something sparking in his eyes. Hesitance, maybe. _Mistrust_ , more likely, when Lance looks close enough.

 

      He frowns as he takes in the rest of his friend’s closed-off composure – arms crossed defensively, back ramrod straight, shoulders curved in ever so slightly. The more he looks, the more he realizes that Keith’s been like this the whole time they’ve been stranded. The _whole_ time, even after Coran appeared and explained what had happened to them. Even after they saw the castle, the pictures...

 

      Being sad and anxious and scared are all emotions Lance can understand for this situation, because he feels all of that and then some, but Keith... Keith is taking the whole “ _trust no one_ ” motto a little too far, and now that Lance _really_ thinks about it, he doesn’t understand _why_.  They’re _safe_ with Allura and Coran. Sure, these are alternate, aged-up versions of them, but they’re pretty close to the “real” thing, if Lance were to be completely honest. Besides, it’s not like they haven’t proved that they’re trustworthy, or willing to help – that’s literally all they’ve been doing! Keith must have some reason to be so skeptical of them, some motive behind his mistrust which Lance just can’t see. How can he, when he hardly knows Keith at all?

 

      Lance has always thought of Keith as a loner. Back when they were in the same class, he can’t remember ever seeing a single person hang out with Keith. So that means he’d had no friends, at least at the Garrison. The thought twists a sharp thorn into the flesh beneath Lance’s ribcage, and he feels a wave of empathy towards Keith. _He_ couldn’t have lived like that – isolation is, and always will be, one of his greatest fears. If _Keith_ spent his Garrison years like that, though, he must have trust issues, or, in any case, a very difficult time socializing. Lance can’t be 100% certain, but his gut is telling him he’s on the right track. Honestly, it _does_ make a weird amount of sense – especially when applied to their current situation.

 

      Unfortunately enough, psychoanalyzing isn’t his forte, so all Lance has to go on are gut feelings and previously acquired knowledge. Again, he isn’t superhumanly smart like Pidge or Hunk, but he’s pretty good at reading people, and his instincts are spot on most of the time (like, _nearly_ 76% of the time). At any rate, he’s confident enough in his abilities to deem his observation as true… Rather, very _close_ to the truth. Now it’s only a matter of figuring out what to do with this information.

 

      “I would never put either of you in danger,” Allura is saying when he snaps out of his thoughts. She has a sweet, soft smile on her face. It’s counterbalanced by the touch of sadness in her eyes, which Lance guesses must stem from Keith’s blatant skepticism. However, the look fades not a moment later, and in its place come honesty and reassurance. “Your safety is guaranteed – one hundred per cent.”

 

      “Right,” Keith says, nonplussed, giving a jerky nod. He uncrosses his arms and makes an aborted gesture towards the door. “We should get going, then.”

 

      They leave the room in a tense silence. Allura and Coran keep a few steps ahead of him and Keith. Other than a quiet exchange of words between the two in the beginning, though, they remain quiet for the rest of the way. Lance resists the urge to rub the back of his neck.

 

      It’s only after a minute or so that Lance realizes he has no idea where they’re going, wrapped up as he was in the awkward atmosphere. He observes Keith from the corner of his eye, tries to gauge his friend’s mood, and decides to hold off on asking. Keith looks weary and ragged, worse than what Lance would have suspected. Is this whole AI thing affecting him that badly? Or is it just because he doesn’t trust these versions of Allura and Coran?

 

      Sparks of concern flicker alive in his chest. He isn’t sure what to say, but anything would be better than silence, right? Besides, Keith had shown concern for _him_ yesterday, asking if he felt ok, and... Friends worry about each other, and try to help, or at least show that they- _care_.

 

      What they have may be a tentative, newly-formed friendship, but Lance isn’t a total asshole. Hell, if Keith – emotionally constipated, stoic, “Trust No One”, Keith – has enough common courtesy to inquire about Lance’s well-being, then Lance would just feel plain bad about not returning the sentiment.

 

      So with all of that in mind, Lance angles his head to look at Keith, and calls, “Hey.” Keith peers at him not a moment later, expression shifting to something a little more neutral. Lance feels some of his concern peter out at the change. “Are you ok? With all of...” A short pause, then, weakly, he finishes with, “This?”

 

      The question must catch Keith off guard, since his eyes widen, all traces of neutrality dissipating. “I’m–” He stops, brow crunching a little, and turns his head back towards the hallway ahead of them. His gaze falls on Allura, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. When he continues, his voice is little more than a harsh, hushed whisper, “Allura would never do something like this.” He shakes his head, brow furrowing further. “ _We_ would never do something like this.”

 

      Lance waits for him to add something else, but the tense silence creeps over them as the seconds tick by, wrapping them back up in its cold grip, squeezing them, suffocating them. Keith actually looks _more_ agitated than before. Lance can’t help but feel guilty, and it sits in the center of his stomach like a lead ball.

 

      “They must have a good reason,” he offers in an attempt to right his wrongs, keeping his tone light. Keith takes a sharp breath, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Deciding to drop the subject, Lance concentrates on walking and tries to discard the growing weight in his stomach. The worry in his chest flares back to life, so he ignores that, too.

 

      The witch’s AI turns out to be stored in the castle’s cortex. Lance has only been in this part of the castle once or twice, so he’s not sure about how different it is to the one in this universe. From what he can remember, he can tell that they’re both similar.

 

      Allura guides them to a screen and starts typing out commands with lightning-quick fingers. Coran oversees the process with a critical eye, hands folded behind his back, standing straight and formal. Lance doesn’t think he’s seen Coran this uptight for such a long time. He feels bad for Allura, even though he realizes she wouldn’t want him to. She knew the consequences of her actions, and Coran probably can’t stay mad at her for long, anyways.

 

      A hologram flickers to life in front of the screen abruptly. It’s in the shape of a person Lance can only assume to be Haggar, blank-faced and plain creepy. Allura takes a step back and beckons him and Keith closer. Despite the look on Keith’s face, he goes willingly.

 

      “All you have to do is ask a question,” Allura explains. “The AI will formulate an answer based on the information contained in its data bank. Unfortunately, this could take a while, depending on whether or not the AI has ever come into contact with the contents of the request.” She gestures towards the hologram. “But I’m confident that the answer we’re looking for is within our grasp. Haggar had an unrivalled thirst for knowledge, which is partly why she turned to dark magic. Furthermore, it took a long time before we managed to stop her. It is a huge possibility that she’s attempted to travel across dimensions before, or even through time.”

 

      “If she has,” Keith begins, frowning. “She must not have been that successful.” His words sour the upbeat atmosphere Allura had been trying to create, and her face tightens in disappointment.

 

      “The only way to find out is to ask, then,” Lance pipes up, scrabbling to play Peace Maker. He wonders if this is how Shiro feels half the time. If so, it’s no wonder why the guy is stressed out all the time.

 

      Allura seems grateful at his intervention. She smiles with a nod, and turns towards the hologram. Beside him, Keith looks on expectantly. Probably waiting for the moment this plan turns on its head so he can say _‘I told you so’_. He’d do that – Lance is sure, – but, right now, he’s on the defensive for a reason. This whole act is the direct result of something else, something _bigger_ , which Lance can’t identify ( _‘Yet’_ , he thinks confidently). He’s good at reading people, sure, but Keith is... Keith is the exception, as per usual.

 

      Whatever his underlying suspicions may result from, Lance hopes they’ll be put to rest once they get answers from the AI.

 

      “Haggar,” Allura starts. The hologram flickers, and the AI looks at the Princess with expressionless eyes. It sort of gives Lance the creeps (and by _‘sort of’_ , he means _‘really’_ ). “How would one travel through space and time at the exact same moment?”

 

      The witch doesn’t speak for the longest time, processing the question. When it (or she?) spurs to life abruptly, Lance tenses in surprise, before leaning forward in anticipation. “I have attempted both inter-dimensional travel and time travel,” the AI says. Its tone is monotonous and slightly tinny, as if it were speaking through an intercom. Lance isn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it was definitely something more… Evil? It opens its mouth once again, and he refocuses his thoughts on what it says next, “Each endeavour proved fruitless.”

 

      The temperature plummets. Lance hears a sharp intake of breath, and he doesn’t need to look to know it came from Keith. He grits his teeth and fights off the crushing weight upon his shoulders. They can find another way- no, they _will_ find-

 

      “However,” the AI drones on, oblivious to the panic and fear it just induced. “My failure was the result of a number of factors – mainly insufficient power, and the lack of exotic matter to keep the wormhole from collapsing in on itself. Disregarding all of that, it’s quite simple. The process is similar to that of opening a regular wormhole – the only differences are the amount of energy, concentration, and time which are necessary.” From the way it spoke, inter-universal time travel sounds like a walk in the park. Lance can’t believe it’s going to be so easy, but hope warms his chest all the same. “Of course, you need to be able to clearly visualize the time and place of where you’d like to go, and from there on out it’s a matter of willpower.”

 

      “Exotic matter?” Coran pipes up. Lance startles at the sound of his voice. “Where would you find such a thing?”

 

      “I believe Allura already has a hold of it,” Haggar says. “Whatever powers she possesses... They have similar properties to those of exotic matter. In theory, you have everything you need.” A miniscule pause, and then, “I say this assuming you are in possession of at least two large Balmeran crystals.”

 

      Lance turns to observe Allura and Coran’s response. He has to swallow down his disappointment when neither of them nod.

 

      Allura straightens her posture, holds her head high with a fiery determination alight in her eyes. She looks ready to lead an army. She looks unbeatable. “No, but I’m certain we will be able to acquire them with no trouble,” is how she answers. There’s no doubt in Lance’s mind that the last part was meant more for him and Keith than Haggar, but it fuels his hope all the same. He trusts Allura, and this Allura is no different.

 

      “Then you have a high chance of succeeding.”

 

      “Thank you, Haggar,” Allura says. She presses a glowing button, and Haggar’s AI flickers off. The room goes quiet for a moment, while each of them processes what they’ve just learnt. It takes less time for Allura and Coran to digest the information, which is to be expected, but they respectfully retain the silence until both Keith and Lance look ready to speak.

 

      A smile breaks out on Lance’s face in no time at all, and he steps forward in excitement. “So now–”

 

      “When can we get the crystals?” Keith interrupts, arms crossed, hands clenching at the fabric of his coat. He looks more agitated than he was before, less reluctant to talk. He must be even more eager to leave now that they finally have a way out.

 

      “It depends,” Allura answers calmly. “We’d have to talk to the Balmeran natives.”

 

      Fingers tightening their hold, Keith frowns. “What do you mean?” he persists. “How long does it usually take the Balmera to make a large crystal?”

 

      Allura takes a short breath as her gaze sharpens into something much more serious. Lance has a feeling that neither he nor Keith will like whatever she’s about to say. It isn’t a pleasant thought.

 

      “Two months, at least.”

 

      Lance’s eyes widen, and he steps forward in a burst of restlessness. “Two _months_?!” he sputters, unable to think of anything else to say. _“Two months?”_

 

      “Yes,” Coran says, frowning. “It... We know it’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do. We have no control over the Balmera, and–”

 

    _“Unfortunate?”_ Keith repeats, tone slow, almost incredulous. His brow has knitted together, and there’s a dark flicker of anger in his eyes. Anger, and something else – something that looks a lot like fear. “If we can find five _mystical robot lions_ , travel across the universe to an ancient castle, team up with a princess and her butler who’ve been asleep for 10,000 years, beat up a bunch of bad guys, free a planet from an evil dictatorship, infiltrate the _most secure prison in the universe_ , and _then_ get thrown into an _alternate universe_ in less than two _weeks_ , what do you think can happen to our friends in _two months_?!” By the time he’s finished, the room has gone deathly quiet. Keith storms off without another word.

 

      Lance fidgets in his spot for a moment, glances between Coran and Allura. Both Alteans avert his gaze. They’re saddened, maybe, or ashamed. They see that Keith is hurting, but they have no idea how to help, or how to convince him to trust them. Lance, though... Keith must trust _Lance_ more than he does this Allura and this Coran... Right?

 

      He’s moving before he knows what he’s doing, long strides allowing him to make it into the corridor in less than five seconds. Then he’s turning left, calling Keith’s name as he catches a glimpse of red at the end of the hallway, and then he’s running, trying to catch up.

 

      His fingers grasp the material of Keith’s jacket just in time. “Keith,” he says once again, and his friend pauses in his step, looks back with pursed lips and a clenched jaw and sad, sad, _angry_ eyes. “Keith.” He’s turned towards Lance fully, but he looks just about ready to leave.

 

      “What do you want, Lance?” Keith says. His voice is arctic, biting cold.

 

      “I don’t want anything, I just–” Lance pauses, runs a hand through his hair. Breathes. “It’s going to be ok. Everything that’s happened so far, everything we’ve been through – it’ll all be ok. We just have to–”

 

      “You can’t _know_ that.” A tone of accusation colours Keith’s words, and he curls in on himself. “Whatever you say, whatever _they_ say,” he jabs a finger in the general direction of Allura and Coran. “Means _nothing_. We don’t know _anything_.”

 

      “Yes, we _do_ ,” Lance insists. “We have a way out, Keith; a way _home_.” At this, Keith’s eyes gain a glossy sheen, and he looks away quickly. Concern washes over Lance, burns hot and bright inside his ribcage. He takes a step forward. “We don’t have to be afraid anymore. Allura and Coran are going to help us; they’re going to get us home. I know you don’t trust them, I know they aren’t the same Allura and Coran we know, but you don’t _have_ to trust them.” Hesitantly, he reaches forth with his hand and places it on Keith’s shoulder. When Keith looks up, he smiles. “Trust _me_ ,” he says, quiet yet earnest. “Trust me, when I say it’s going to work out. Trust me, when I say we’re going to make it home. Ok?”

 

      A second passes, and then another, and another, and another, until Keith squeezes his eyes shut and nods, breath coming in short, jagged turns. “Ok,” he mutters, lungs expanding, eyelids fluttering open. “Ok.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for reading!! :)
> 
> Now, some notes:  
> 1) I still plan to finish this by the end of the year  
> 2) Keith & Lance finally got some development w/ their relationship... ((it's abt time, I know orz))  
> 3) Next chapter might include a new character!! wink wink nudge nudge  
> 4) I Love Allura  
> (((+ If I wrote a small Shallura fic, would anyone be interested in reading it?)))
> 
> OK. So: Thank you all yet again!! (no, i can't say that enough) I hope the wait was worth it... lmao...


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